


One Year and One Day

by Mazuku



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Loki, Internalized Homophobia, Loki Feels, Loki's Kids, M/M, Seduction, Sincere Thor, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazuku/pseuds/Mazuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with Loki coming to live in Avengers Tower. Or no, actually, it started weeks before that, when Tony took Steve into town to buy him shoes and he finally realized that in this day and age no-one batted an eyelid at two men holding hands in public.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

It started with Loki coming to live in the Avengers tower. Or no, actually, it started weeks before that, when Tony took Steve into town to buy him a suit for a fancy awards party they’d all been invited to. Steve found New York too stuffy now, too full of people, and the shopping districts were particularly hellish. Everyone seemed intent on standing on your toes or jostling you as you tried to walk, so Steve’s mood was already frayed by the time they got near the shoe-shop Tony insisted was the only place to buy brogues these days. 

At first, Steve didn’t notice the couple holding hands ahead of them on the sidewalk. One taller than the other, both in jeans and t-shirts, they were unremarkable at first glance and it was only after a proper look that Steve noticed that both of them had hairy arms and straight up-and-down figures. As soon as he realised what he was seeing he forgot about shoes entirely and started to stride after the couple with purpose, leaving Tony to jog after him. 

“Cap, what the Hell? You need shoes, stop sulking!” Steve ignored the admonition and Tony ran faster to catch up with him. “What, did someone steal an old lady’s purse or something?” 

“No,” Steve replied, still intently following the couple who were still hand in hand, unaware, _unafraid_. “But those two guys are holding hands.” 

“Uh, yes?” Tony replied, nonplussed. 

“Tony, they’re going to get the tar beaten out of them if they go around holding hands like that, someone has to stop them before they get hurt!” He stopped short as Tony grabbed his wrist and hauled him backwards.

“Woah, Cap, wait! This is the West Village. There’s gay hand-holding from wall-to-wall. If you have a problem with it, you’re definitely in the minority here.” Steve couldn’t find the words to express to Tony that he wasn’t horrified about the hand-holding, but by how careless these men were being, and how likely they were to be beaten to a pulp for being so incautious. 

“If people see them doing that they’re going to get beaten up, and I’m not going to stand by and let it happen.” 

Tony shook his head, slapping his palm to his forehead in a gesture of resignation. “I forget, you missed that whole ‘free love’ movement, didn’t you? Newsflash, Captain America: It’s okay to be gay now.” 

“What?” 

“No, I’m serious, Cap, being gay is legal now. What would be illegal nowadays is ‘beating the tar’ out of a sweet young couple out on a walk. They’re fine, but you still need shoes. Come on.” 

As he submitted to his feet being measured by a man in a white suit, Steve thought about the couple on the sidewalk strolling along as bold as you please. He liked it – and at the same time hated it. It made him afraid, instinctively, to see anyone being obvious about being queer. Afraid for them. Afraid for himself. And he was jealous at the same time, jealous that this newfangled tolerance and peace had come seventy years too late, jealous that all of his hand-holding had been behind closed doors, hushed and hidden and always, always in danger of being found out.

 

*

 

_“He had no chance,” William said dolefully. “They said his skull was crushed up. Like chalk-dust.” His eyes filled with tears again. Steve cast about for something to say that might help, but came up with nothing. There really didn’t seem to be anything he could say to mitigate the horror of watching someone you’d gone to bed with being beaten to death in front of you. “I didn’t mean for anyone to find out, Steve.” But someone had, obviously, or Thomas Boyd wouldn’t be dead and William wouldn’t be here in Steve’s poky apartment, curled up under his thickest blanket in tears. “Pop told me not to bother coming home. Says he’s done with me.”  
_

_“You can stay here,” Steve replied, without pausing to even think about it. “You know, till you find somewhere. I’ll make something up to tell Bucky.”  
_

_William looked up at him from under his heavy eyelashes, smiling – but it was a brittle smile that wobbled at the corners. “Thanks Steve. You’re a swell guy, you know that?”  
_

_That night, as William and Bucky snored into the silence of the apartment, Steve tossed and turned and wondered if he would be next in line to the funeral home, with his skull ground to chalk dust under his skin just like Thomas Boyd._

 

*

 

“Captain Rogers, please get out of the way.” 

It was amazing, the bored tone Loki could affect in the middle of a battleground. Steve glowered at him from behind his shield, but obliged by taking a step back. Loki slammed his staff down into the concrete, creating a pothole that would almost definitely snag someone’s wheel when the street was open again, and a burst of green light hurtled out towards the advancing robots. 

The robots splintered and disintegrated, and Tony howled and complained over the intercom about wanting to study them. With obvious contempt, Loki pulled his earpiece out and let it hang loose down the front of his armour. “I cannot understand why the Avengers still bother to treat Justin Hammer or his creations as a threat,” He said idly. “I have known rabbits more dangerous than these contraptions.”

“I wish he would go and make trouble in someone else’s backyard,” Steve replied. 

“Quite. I was reading when Thor called me, and it irks me to think I left my book for this…display.” 

Steve looked up as Thor sailed into view around the nearest office building, coming to land beside the hole Loki had made in the street. “Did you have to end it so quickly, Brother?” He asked jovially. “I feel cheated, for a battle was promised!” 

“Surely even you are not such a fool as to believe the promises of Justin Hammer, Brother,” Loki replied. “I will return to the Tower if you have no more need of me. I am three chapters from the end of a novel, and I wish to find out who is the killer.” 

“You are ever lost in your books, Brother,” Thor replied fondly. “Go, discover your killer.” Thor turned his bright smile to Steve as Loki disappeared in a flicker. “He is a doughty fighter, as I promised you.”

“Sure, I never said he wasn’t. I’m still not sure how well this is working out though, Thor. Clint won’t work with him, and neither will Natasha.” 

Thor looked guilty for a brief moment, but continued to speak as if Steve hadn’t mentioned Clint or Natasha. “Tony tells me he enjoys Loki’s company in his workshop. And I am led to believe that Lady Pepper has been lending him books to help him understand Midgard better. He is much improved, is he not?” 

“Well, he isn’t trying to take over the planet any more.” Thor looked crestfallen, and Steve stumbled over his words as he tried to backtrack. “What I mean is, uh, it’s nice to have his strength on our side, not working against us. He’s uh, got a lot of magic and stuff.” 

“Indeed, he is a very skilled magician, though I confess I have never understood his fascination with books, nor his love of drawing.”

“Oh, Loki likes to draw?” The idea of Loki with a pencil in his hand and a sketchbook on his lap didn’t seem to fit, but Thor nodded and carried on looking golden and sincere. 

“Indeed, my brother is a fair master of charcoals and inks. Perhaps you and he should compare your works sometime.”

 

*

 

That evening as he stood in the shower, Steve thought about Loki. He still didn’t know much about him – apart from the obvious – but he didn’t know all that much about most of the Avengers (apart from Tony, but that was because Tony couldn’t stop talking about himself for five seconds flat). Natasha, while he respected her deeply, was a mystery. Clint was handsome, but unapproachable. Prickly. Bruce held himself apart from everyone, though that was understandable, considering the Other Guy. Even Thor was an enigma, and now they had his brother to deal with as well. It had been three weeks since the disgraced Asgardian had moved into the tower, at the behest of Odin and after a lot of begging on Thor’s part, so that he could ‘repay his debt to Midgard by aiding their most cherished heroes for one year and one day’. 

So far Loki’s ‘help’ had extended as far as turning up to battles when Thor asked him to and flinging magic around without heed for anyone else’s battle plan or general proximity to the blast zone. Otherwise he mostly stayed in his room. He didn’t even eat with the rest of them, though that was probably a good thing. Clint refused to be in the same room as Loki on principle, Natasha sided with Clint, and Bruce couldn’t stand the tension without coming dangerously close to hulking out so he’d made himself scarce since Loki arrived as well. 

Steve was torn. On the one hand, Loki had unleashed an entire army of Chitauri soldiers on them. And on the other, it didn’t seem fair to write him off as a lost cause without any hope of rehabilitation. To hear Thor tell his tales, Loki had gotten Asgard out of plenty of hard places over the years by being clever and thinking on the spot. He’d only gone off the rails after finding out he was adopted, and Steve felt a lot of sympathy about that. He’d never even known the names of his parents, growing up. He was just one more kid in the orphanage, along with Bucky and James and Mary and all the others. He knew, probably better than anyone else in the Avengers, how Loki had felt to finally come to the realisation that the people raising him weren’t his real parents. 

He’d been angry, the day he’d found out. Angry with his mother for dying, angry with his father for dumping him, angry with everyone and everything. He’d broken one of the legs of Sister Theresa’s desk in anger, and she’d caned him for it. He’d been a skinny little stick of a boy then and the table leg was the worst he could do. Loki, on the other hand, was a fully grown adult a goddamned magician to boot when he’d found out that Odin wasn’t his real father, and while his immediate, burning reaction had seen him invade earth, ruin the bifrost, hurl himself off into eternity and sign up to the service of a conquering army, it was only a scaled-up version of the destruction Steve had caused as a kid. 

_And if I’d been as strong then as I am now?_ Steve asked himself. The answer was obvious. He would have ripped the world around him into pieces without a thought for the consequences. Maybe Thor had been right. Maybe he did have things in common with Loki after all. 

He rinsed his hair under the spray of the shower, turned it off, and walked out into his bedroom to find Tony sitting on his bed. He was glad of his towel, and honestly wished he had another to hide under. “I locked the door,” He said pointedly. “So I could shower in peace.” 

“I did let you shower in peace,” Tony replied, as if he’d done him a great favour. “Anyway, I brought you something. Pepper’s making me throw out all of Howard’s old stuff and I found these.” He held out a wad of yellowed paper that turned out to be a sheaf of old photographs. “Guess he liked hanging out with the cool kids for a change, he took enough photos. Anyway, if you don’t want them throw them out. I don’t need them.” 

Steve waited until Tony had left his bedroom before sitting down on the bed and looking at the photos. They were all of Howard and the Howling Commandos. Steve remembered taking most of them – technically speaking it had only been months ago that that was reality for him. They were good photos, because Howard had always had the best of everything, and it made Steve feel numb and dull to look at those grinning faces and realise that they were all dead now. 

There were even a few with Peggy in them, even though she hated posing for pictures – well, Howard had always been good at persuading women to do things for him. And even more surprisingly there was one of Bucky – Bucky, who had never willingly let anyone take a picture of him his entire life. 

Steve ran a gentle finger down the paper beside the slightly blurred image of his best friend and sighed. It had been a long time since Bucky had died, but it hadn’t been a long time for Steve. Bucky died over the ravine, then there was the Red Skull and the ice and now this entire new world that he’d only been resident of for a few scanty months. It felt new. It felt recent. And it still hurt. 

_Maybe if he’d been alive now I might have been able to tell him._

 

*

 

_Bucky looked up as Steve walked into the apartment, gave an absent wave and carried on reading the newspaper. He was lying on the floor with his feet up on the frame of his bed, holding the newspaper up high over his face.  
_

_“There was a fire down at the docks,” He said.  
_

_“I heard. Mrs Shaughnessy told me at the chemist.”  
_

_“Got your medicine?”  
_

_“Sure, Buck.”_

_“Finished those pages?”  
_

_“Yeah. I’m taking them in tomorrow.” They were sensationalist illustrations for a cheap comic, but they paid pretty well and they saved Steve from risking his lungs in one of the factories.  
_

_“I’m taking Mary-Anna to the dance tonight. You want to come? I’m sure she has a friend she could bring.”  
_

_“I don’t know, I don’t feel so great. Wouldn’t want to cough all over her and ruin the night.”  
_

_Bucky lowered the paper and looked up at Steve in exasperation. “One of these days, Stevie, I’m going to teach you how to get dames eating out of the palm of your hand.”_

_“Okay,” Steve replied, smiling. “Since you’re gonna to be performing miracles, could you magic me up a million bucks first?”_

_Bucky laughed. Steve laughed. And after Bucky left the house that night William called by. “I saw Bucky leaving,” He said breathlessly. “You want some company?”  
_

_“Sure. He won’t be back till late.”  
_

_William was blonde, blonde with curls and dark grey eyes and Steve couldn’t help but stare as the younger man unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall open in invitation. “It’s been so long, Stevie, don’t make me wait.” William sighed. “I wish Bucky went out every night.”  
_

_“Yeah, me too.” That wasn’t really true. What Steve really wished was that he could tell Bucky the truth, but he wasn’t brave – or stupid – enough for that. Bucky was a good guy, a great guy, but in his eyes Thomas Boyd was a pervert who deserved everything that he got, and that was how Steve knew that he was all wrong. Because Bucky hated queers, everyone hated queers, even Steve hated queers, even though that amounted to hating himself and hating William, who he loved more than he knew how to express._

 

*

 

“No. No way. Forget it.” 

Steve massaged his temples and tried not to lose his temper. He’d slept badly – echoes of Bucky and William had haunted his sleep and Loki had decided to join them, sighing in boredom as Bucky beat William into chalk dust while Steve screamed. He’d woken up screaming, his throat was still raw, and he didn’t want to have to deal with this. 

“Clint, Loki’s allied with the Avengers now, whether you like it or not.” 

“If he’s going to be there, I’m not going.” 

“It’s a group TV appearance, Clint, you have to be there.” 

“If he’s going to be there, I’m not going,” Clint repeated, jutting his jaw out stubbornly. 

“Fine!” Steve snapped, patience finally worn too thin. “Fine. I’ll tell the TV station you’re too busy being a goddamned princess to turn up to their interview.” He shoved his chair back and stood up, striding for the door. Clint stood up too, chair scraping across the floor. 

“I’m being a princess? He took over my fucking mind!” 

“Sure, he did, and he’s supposed to be on the team now to make up for all that! That’s the whole point of him being here!” 

“Yeah? Well if it was up to me I would have left him in the dungeons!” Clint bellowed. Steve couldn’t hold himself in anymore. He struck left with his fist, leaving a hand-shaped imprint in the metal of the doorframe, and regretted it immediately. But not enough that he didn’t reply. 

“It isn’t up to you!” He snapped back. “And don’t tell me you haven’t done plenty of horrible things in your time, Clint! Everyone deserves a second chance!”

“Indeed. I thank you for those words, my friend.” Steve turned to find Thor behind him. He hadn’t heard him coming, wasn’t sure how long he’d been there or how much he’d heard. “Loki has done many terrible things, but there is still much good in him. I beg you, Agent Barton, to allow him the chance to atone for his misdeeds.” 

Clint gave a clipped, snarling noise and walked out of the room, shoving past Steve and Thor both. The Asgardian sighed and shook his head. “He is not blessed with a forgiving nature.” 

“No. Clearly not.” Steve eyed the damaged doorframe and wondered how he was going to tell Tony he’d broken his house. Thor followed his gaze. 

“You are a good man, Steve Rogers. You are just, and give all the same chances. It is not to your discredit that you are angered when others do not do the same.” 

“I just didn’t want another headache to deal with.” 

“Your head aches?” Thor echoed, missing the point spectacularly. “Seek out Loki. He is as much a healer as a warrior.” 

“Can he heal Clint’s anger management issues?” Steve replied sourly. 

“Nay, I think not. And I confess, I can think of nothing that Loki might do to appease his wrath. Agent Barton does not strike me as a man who appreciates art or storytelling, nor is he in need of healing.” 

“We’ll just have to hope he takes a few hits the next time the Hammerbots come out,” Steve said. “No, I didn’t mean that. I don’t want Clint to get hurt, I…” He sighed. “I had a bad night’s sleep, I guess I’m just in a bad mood.” 

“Then perhaps you would like to join me? I am going to the library, for I have run out of books to read.” 

“Okay, sure. I need to get out and get some fresh air.” 

It wasn’t far from the tower to the public library, and as they walked Thor told him all about the books he was taking back. “The first of the series was somewhat dull, but Lady Pepper insisted that they improved from then on, and she was right. The writers of Midgard are skilled at weaving intricate mysteries about criminals and their misdeeds.” The automatic door of the library whirred open and Thor smiled sheepishly. “I will grant you that I have returned my books a day late on purpose. The librarian Ayesha will be wroth, but in her rage she is a beauty to behold.” 

Oh, so that was how it was. “Sure,” Steve replied. “I’ll take a look around, find something for myself while you’re paying your fines.” He wandered into the reference section as Thor walked over to the desk, where a statuesque woman waited for him with folded arms. He figured they might be a while, so he browsed up and down the aisles until he found the art section. He was still catching up on decades of missed culture and history, so it was a relief to take out a book on classic art and see something familiar. Absently flicking through the pages, he turned the corner hoping to find a desk to sit at, or at least a chair. Instead he almost trod on a child slumped out on the floor. 

It seemed to be some kind of storytime session – the kids were all sitting on beanbags or laid out on the carpet, listening with rapt attention. “And then the dragon roared! Furious was he, for all of his treasures had been stolen, and yet he could not break his promise and attack the elves. Can anyone guess what happens next?” It was Loki. Loki, in ordinary clothes, sitting against a bookcase, with the attention of every single child in the room on him. “What do you think happened?” He asked, pointing at a little girl with pigtails. 

“I think he flew back to his mountain and cried.” She replied. 

“Dragons do not cry. They are very proud creatures.” 

“I think he breaks his promise,” Said another little girl. 

“And you are right, little one,” Loki said. “The dragon was so angry that he forgot his promise and killed Arilmar, leader of the elves. It was only when he started to turn to dust that he regretted his hastiness, but by then it was too late.” He paused for a moment. “Now, who can tell me what the moral of this tale is?” 

“You shouldn’t get angry!” Shouted the boy Steve had nearly stood on. As Loki looked over at him he caught Steve’s eye for a brief second. 

“Everyone gets angry, child. The moral is that you shouldn’t do things in anger that you will regret later. You should not say hurtful things or hit anyone, do you see?” 

The children all chorused back their understanding, and Loki clapped his hands. “And now we are done for today. Another story tomorrow.” The children complained, but Loki held up his hands in denial of it. “Tomorrow, and remember to be quiet as you leave so that others can continue reading.” He stood as the children started to peel away and drift out of the library or over to the bookshelves. “Captain Rogers. I was not aware you frequented the library.” In standing up he’d lost some of his energetic animation and he was more like the cool, bored Loki that Steve knew. 

“I don’t, normally. Tony got me one of those electronic books, but Thor asked me if I wanted to come along. Uh, only he’s flirting with the woman behind the desk so I thought I’d make myself scarce. I didn’t realise you were doing storytime here.” 

“A trifle to give me something to do during the day,” Loki replied. 

“I honestly didn’t peg you as the kind of guy who likes kids,” Steve said, with a smile. Loki didn’t smile back. Instead he turned his gaze, following the retreating back of the last child.

“Then it may surprise you to know that I am a father.” 

“Really? Wow, how many?” 

For some reason that seemed to send Loki even further away. “Six. Five sons, one daughter.” He cleared his throat. “But I must leave you, Captain. I have business at the tower.” He disappeared, as he always did. Steve wondered if he would ever not find it disconcerting, and also wondered why Loki had been so reluctant to talk about his kids. He asked Thor about it when he eventually came back from the desk, and the horrified look on the Asgardian’s face told Steve that he’d dug up something bad. 

“Loki has seen none of his children in decades, my friend. It is a sore subject for him, sore indeed. Better than you not mention it to him again.” 

“Why? What happened?” 

Thor refused to meet his gaze. He looked…ashamed. Sad, maybe. “Asgard of old was a harsh place, and Loki made many unwise choices.”

“What does that mean?” Steve probed. 

“Nay, Steve Rogers. It is not my story to tell. Loki would wrench my head from my shoulders if he knew I had said this much, let alone more. If you would know, ask him. But be prepared for his anger, for even after so many hundreds of years it is a raw wound.” 

Far later that night, after a long and energetic training session in Tony’s state-of-the-art gym, Steve was nursing a cup of milk at the kitchen counter, thoughts streaming idly through his head. He wondered if he would be able to sleep if he went to bed now. The dream last night seemed to have stirred up hundreds of sad memories from the past, and he was also curious about Loki’s children – but perhaps not curious enough to ask. Or rather, he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to risk getting his head pulled off his shoulders by an enraged Norse god. 

He was distracted by a sudden noise – the fridge opening. It was Loki, still dressed in his ordinary human clothes. They suited him. Hugged his figure so that you could see the long, lean shape of him, undistorted by layers of robe and armour. 

“Is it so strange, to see me in Midgardian attire?” 

“Uh, well, it sure looks different.” 

Loki shrugged, nudging the fridge closed with his shoulder. “It makes me feel somewhat naked, but I did not want to confuse the children.” 

Steve decided to seize the moment. “I’m sorry I asked about your kids. I could see you didn’t want to talk about them, I’m sorry if I…you know…upset you.” 

“You had no reason to suspect that it was a…difficult subject,” Loki replied stiffly. 

“I, uh, I asked Thor.” Loki’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. “He said it wasn’t his story to tell. So I get it. Something bad happened. I didn’t mean to…uh…” Steve realised, academically, that he should have stopped talking several sentences before. His brain continued to clumsily try to mitigate Loki’s obvious horror anyway. “I…I mean I don’t know what happened but I…”

“My son was murdered.” 

“Oh.” 

“Or perhaps you would prefer the full catalogue? Of my six children, two are imprisoned, one was murdered, one is missing, one was cast down to Niflheim to rule over the unworthy dead and one is Odin’s slave.” As he listed off each child Loki seemed to get angrier and angrier, rage simmering in his eyes. 

“I…I had no idea…” 

“Good. It is not Thor’s place to speak of my children. If he had found it in him to stand up to the Allfather my Nari would still be alive.” 

“Did Odin…?” Loki put his hand up. It was an instinctive gesture, but the meaning was clear. Stop. Stop talking. “I’m sorry.” 

“From the minute you asked me about my children I have thought of Nari, but…I cannot. I cannot speak of it.” Loki drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils and turned his face to the ceiling. Steve had seen enough people doing that to know that Loki was trying to stop his tears from falling. And why shouldn’t he cry? He’d lost a child. Surely that was every parent’s worst nightmare? As Steve watched, unable to think of anything useful to say, Loki’s tears spilled from the corners of his eyes and started to trickle down his cheeks, rolling just under his chin and then dripping down to mark his shirt. It was a blue shirt, and every splash showed up like a beacon. 

“I wish you had never mentioned them,” He said, his voice throaty. “Perhaps you should fetch Agent Barton, at least then he might have the joy of laughing at me. If it satisfies you, laugh yourself. Villainous Loki in tears – how fitting.” 

“No…I…I would never…” Steve stood, taking a cautious step toward Loki. 

“You would not.” Loki took a deep, shaking breath. “How does one become so good, Captain Rogers? How does one become so forgiving as to offer comfort to a man who has tried his sincere best to murder you and all of your comrades?” 

“I…I just don’t think anyone’s a lost cause.” 

“Then you are a fool,” Loki replied, shaking his head. He disappeared again, leaving Steve staring into mid-air and feeling distinctly uncomfortable. It would be easier to think of Loki as a lost cause, to write him off as a crazy villain, and yet the more time he spent in the tower, the more reasons Steve had to think he was just as human as the rest of them.

 

*

 

_“You’re too nice, Steve.”_

_“Bucky…William’s not a bad guy…he’s had a hard time lately…”  
_

_“He’s a pervert. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to turn you.”_

_“Bucky…”_

_Bucky folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. He was still wearing the same forbidding expression he’d been wearing since he’d come home early from the dance hall and found William in their apartment. Steve was only glad they hadn’t been in bed together when Bucky threw the door open. It was bad enough that Bucky had physically thrown William out of the apartment, and the ongoing lecture wasn’t helping the twisted, guilty, sick feeling in Steve’s stomach.  
_

_“When are you gonna learn that some people are just bad, Steve?”  
_

_“He was upset. He needed someone to talk to. Everyone’s got to have someone to talk to, Buck.”  
_

_“Not him. Not to you. You know what he is, don’t you? What he does?”  
_

I know what he is Buck, I’m one too. _  
_

_Steve said nothing, just sat cross-legged on his bed with his gaze on the floor. He wondered if William made it home okay. Bucky seemed to take his silence for resistance and started telling him off again.  
_

_“Look, Steve, stay away from him and anyone else like him. I don’t care what their sob story is, I’m not having people saying you’re like them. And they will say that, if you go around with him. Do you want people to say you’re queer?”  
_

_“No, Buck.”_ God no. I don’t want to end up bleeding to death in the gutter.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and lovely comments! I really hope it lives up to your expectations =X
> 
> The story is fully written, but I'm editing it a chapter at a time and then posting - it will be about 28k words when it's all done. I hope you enjoy it!

After the incident in the kitchen Loki started to keep to himself even more. He was clearly still living in the tower – Jarvis reported every time anyone asked that Loki was in his room and that his vital signs were all normal, but when five days passed without anyone actually seeing him in person, Thor started to worry. Unfortunately, that meant he came looking for Steve. 

Steve was leafing through the photos Tony had given him again, seeing more details every time he looked. In one of them Peggy had her arm around Howard’s waist, and she didn’t look too sad about it. He’d always suspected. Well, it wasn’t like it mattered. Peggy had been the hopeless crush of a moment, liking her didn’t change the lifelong, permanent obsession with men that was etched deep into Steve’s soul. 

He sighed, thinking of Bucky, thinking of all the times he’d hidden things from him – or out and out lied. Sometimes it had felt rather hollow to say they were best friends when he’d never told Bucky the fundamental truth of his own nature, but he’d never been able to face the idea of Bucky rejecting him. He’d never wanted Bucky to think… 

Well, to think that he wanted to go to bed with him. He never had. Bucky was Bucky, they were brothers in everything but blood, and Steve had never once looked at him as anything else. It would have broken his heart to have his motivations questioned – for Bucky to think for one second that he saved him from HYRDA so he could sleep with him. 

He jumped when the doorbell chimed. “Who is it?” He called. 

“It is I, Thor. May I enter?” 

“Sure, come in!” Steve shouted back, gathering the photos into a pile and putting them to one side as Thor strode in, Mjolnir hanging from his belt. 

“Have you seen aught of Loki lately, my friend?” 

“Uh, no. Not since I saw him in the library, anyway.”

“I worry for him. I wonder if you might help me.” 

“Um…sure?” 

Without asking, Thor flopped down onto Steve’s bed. He explained briefly that Loki had been avoiding him – even going so far as to teleport into the library to tell stories to the children and then teleport away as soon as he was done, leaving Thor standing. “He ignores me when I visit his rooms, he flees from me when he sees me in the tower, and so I worry for him.” 

“But what can I do about it?” 

“I only ask that you try to talk to him. Perhaps he will let another in where he rejects me. And he knows that you have staunchly supported him when others may not have been so understanding.” 

That was how Steve ended up standing outside the door of Loki’s rooms, feeling stupid. He pushed the intercom buzzer. “Loki? Are you in?” He knew he was. Jarvis had said as much. So Steve waited. And waited. And then the door slid open. 

Loki was lying on his bed, naked to the waist, surrounded by paper. It cascaded off the sides of the mattress like a waterfall, littered the floor like a carpet. “What is it, Captain Rogers? I have told Thor that I do not wish to be disturbed unless Midgard is actually in danger this time.” 

“Uh…” Steve cast his eyes at the papers closest to his feet. They were all torn from a sketchbook – or several sketchbooks, to judge from the sheer volume of paper in the room. There was a horse. A pair of little boys smiling. A moody-looking woman. And the same boys, and…the same horse, and… 

“My children,” Loki said, his tone dull. “Sift through and you will find all of them. Fenrir, Jormungand, Hela, Nari, Vali and Sleipnir.” 

“Um…the horse?” Steve asked, picking up a close-up sketch of the horse’s face. 

“Sleipnir, Odin’s steed. I am a shapeshifter, Captain, as you well know, so wipe your look of shock from your face.” 

“Hela is a girl’s name, right?” Steve went on, picking up one of the moody-looking young woman. 

“Yes. She rules far from here, on Niflheim.” Steve knelt down, shifting the carpet of sketches this way and that. “Fenrir is the wolf and Jormungand is the serpent,” Loki said, as he picked up more drawings. “They are the two who languish in Asgard’s dungeons. Nari and Vali are the twins. Nari is dead, and Vali is missing.” 

Steve spread the pages he’d picked up between his hands to admire them. They weren’t all human-looking, but they all seemed to have very human expressions. Fenrir gave the impression of being a trickster, and Sleipnir seemed a little bit self-important and smug. They all echoed Loki in one way or another – they were all clearly his children. “They’re really good,” Steve said eventually. “Is Jorn…uh, Jormin…” 

“Jormungand.” 

“Is he really that big?” 

“He is sometimes known as the World Serpent,” Loki said, with pride. “Obviously he was not always so enormous. When he was a newborn he slept around my neck. If he curled up, I could hold him in one hand.” He smiled as the ghost of a memory flitted across his face. “He was truly Angrboda’s favourite child. She was my lover, at the time. A giantess. But I have never had favourites. I love all of them.” With a deep sigh, Loki lowered his head until he was lying prone, his cheek pressed against the sketchpad in front of him. “I wish my mind was still unbalanced enough that I did not think,” He said. “And I wish you had not reminded me of them.” He closed his eyes, and Steve took him in properly for the first time. Loki was tall, but very thin. His shoulderblades stood out sharply from his back, his dark hair stark against his pale skin. He was all angles, masculine and sharp, and…handsome. 

To brush aside that shivering realisation Steve spoke. “It’s hard to remember. I know how you feel.” 

“Thor has told me that your old comrades are all dead.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And your lover…Peggy, was it?” 

“Oh…w-we weren’t _lovers_ ,” Steve hurried to correct. 

“Forgive me. I must have misunderstood.” 

Steve flipped through the sketches in his hand again. Loki was, as Thor had said, a good artist. There was a sad, wistful quality to the pictures, and it spoke to something emotional in Steve’s soul. “I’m…look, I’m really sorry I asked you about them,” He said eventually. “I didn’t realise…I mean…have you been eating? Or have you just been drawing this entire time? Thor’s really worried about you.” 

“I am no mere mortal, a few days without food will not kill me. And I felt the need to capture them on paper. It has been so long since I have laid eyes on any of them, I had to see if I could still bring them to mind.”

“Thor thinks you’re avoiding him.” 

“I am,” Loki replied simply. “I am avoiding people in general. I make an exception for the children at the library, and it would seem that I am making one for you too, though that is only because your face pleases me.” 

“Uh…um?” It was a far cry from eloquence, but the compliment came so suddenly out of the left field that Steve had no idea what to say. 

“Fear not, Captain Rogers, I will not creep into your room in the night and ravish you against your will. But you do have a very handsome face.” Loki smirked. The corners of his eyes crinkled in mischief. “The rest of you is rather handsome too, of course, but I have a grave weakness for blue eyes.” 

“Um, thank you?” Steve could feel his cheeks heating up. He was glad Loki still had his eyes shut or he’d probably laugh his head off. He still wasn’t used to men being so casual about their desire for other men nowadays. Talk like that wouldn’t even have been a funny joke back in his day, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to hearing that kind of thing spoken aloud. “So, um, maybe you should take a break and get something to eat?”

“I had not considered food until you disturbed me, but now you have broken my concentration sustenance and sleep sound terribly inviting.” Loki lifted one hand, waved it imperiously and the entire sea of drawings – including the ones Steve had in his hand – flew into the air and collected itself into a pile that stood almost as tall as Steve’s waist. Another wave sent the stack of paper onto the desk, and it was only then that Steve realised how impersonal Loki’s room was. It was just a factory-standard Avengers Tower room, no pictures, no tchotchkes, no clothes, even. At least the pile of drawings made it look lived-in. 

It struck him that Loki was probably a very lonely person. 

“I think,” The god said, dropping his hand back to the duvet, “I will take the sleep before the sustenance. I will see you another day, Captain Rogers.”

“Um, goodnight,” Steve replied. It was only after he’d gone back to his own room that it occurred to him that it was the middle of the day and it had been a pretty stupid thing to say.

 

*

 

The next morning, after he’d been on a good long run to his favourite bakery and back, Steve found Loki and Thor in the kitchen together. He was still out of breath when he got to the top of the stairs – he wasn’t a fan of elevators, no matter how much Tony teased him about it – so he waved by way of greeting and opened the fridge to get some iced water out, taking a good long draught of it before turning around.

Loki was staring down into his teacup thoughtfully, and Thor was watching Loki. “Morning, guys.” They both looked over at him. “How’s it going?” 

“I am well,” Loki said, before licking the back of his teaspoon. “Better for having slept.” 

“Aye, I thank you Steve, for persuading him to look after himself.” Thor sounded reproachful. Loki rolled his eyes.

“I do not need a keeper, Thor, and I do not ask you to follow me around like a clucking mother hen.” 

“And yet if I had not asked the Captain to check on you, you would still be poring over your books and wasting away to a splinter!” 

“Peace, Thor, or I may weep. I am your villainous adopted brother, surely it would serve you better if I _did_ waste away and disappear.” 

“And again you bring up the fact that we are not related by blood! I care not who fathered you, we were raised as brothers. We are brothers!” Thor said hotly. Steve wondered if he should leave. It all seemed to be getting a bit charged and he really didn’t want to wind up in the middle of an Asgardian family row. It was obvious that Loki hadn’t told Thor the truth of why he’d been holed up in his room for so long, obvious that there were still old wounds to be healed between them, and- 

“You are not my brother, Odinson. Because that is what you are; Odin’s son. And I am not.” 

“Father adopted you-” 

“No, the Allfather stole me.”

“You were abandoned,” Thor replied. “He told me so.” 

“Then perhaps he should have left me to die there, for then I could never have caused you such troubles as I have.” And with that last, vicious jab Loki disappeared, presumably back to his bedroom. Thor sighed deeply. 

“I am sorry you had to witness such a display, Steve Rogers.”

“No, uh, it’s okay. Every family has its share of arguments, right?” 

Thor sighed again and propped his chin up on the back of his hand, looking mulish. “I have never looked at Loki as anything but my brother. I care not who fathered him, it is the years we have spent together that make us brothers, not our blood.” 

Steve shook his head. It was amazing that years into the future, across worlds, even, people were having the same discussions that he’d overheard so many times in the forties. “It’s easy for you to say that, Thor. You’re not the one who was adopted.” Thor looked at him with a wounded expression. “Look, I was an orphan. Well, I still am an orphan, I guess. What I mean is, I grew up in an orphanage. I saw loads of kids get adopted and a lot of the time it didn’t work out and they ended up coming back.” 

“But why?” 

“Because…” Steve wondered how to encapsulate what he wanted to say without talking for a hundred years. “When you know you’re an orphan – that your real parents didn’t want you…it can be hard to believe anyone wants you. So you push boundaries. You act out. Make trouble. Because deep down inside you’re waiting for your adopted family to say that they don’t want you either.”

“You mean to say that Loki is testing me?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Thor rose in a very princely fashion, scraping his stool back across the lino as he raised a clenched hand to his chest. “Then he will find me equal to the challenge! I shall show him the breadth and depth of my love for him, that he might understand!” 

Steve, aware he’d probably just unleashed a demon, cleared his throat. “Don’t…you know, smother him or anything. Just be there for him. You know?” 

“Indeed, I shall!” Thor’s eyes welled up with sincere tears. “I thank you, Steve Rogers, for your wisdom and direction. And I thank you for treating my brother with such kindness. I had thought that having seen how paternal and nurturing he is, having seen his prowess in battle, that the other Avengers might be swayed, but it is not thus.” 

“Well, Tony likes him. And Bruce doesn’t mind him, it’s just that Clint clashes with Loki whenever he sees him and Bruce can’t stand it.” 

Thor nodded thoughtfully. “You Midgardians do not see the Loki I see. I cannot deny he has done wrong, but I have seen him do many good things, many kind things. He is a good man, Steve Rogers. But his life has been hard, and he has known much sorrow.” 

“He seems…I don’t know. Lonely?” 

“Aye,” Thor replied. “He has lost much. That is why I wish he would accept me as his brother, but at every turn he pushes me back. It was not I he allowed in his rooms, but you. It is my hope that he wishes to befriend you. That he might be drawn from his shell.” There was the hint of a question in Thor’s voice. 

“Sure, I need someone to spar with.” Steve said it with a smile, and he meant it, but he had the feeling that Loki didn’t really want to be his ‘friend’.

 _“The rest of you is rather handsome too, of course, but I have a grave weakness for blue eyes.”_

Though…well, if Loki was offering…

Steve chastised himself mentally for even dreaming of being so indiscreet. Sleep with Loki? Go to bed with the God of Lies – who was also a Class A gossip? It made him feel a little bit sick to even think of the headlines they would write if America found out its greatest hero was a queer. No, he could be friends with Loki, but friendship was all it could ever be. Sure, he’d been lonely since getting out of the ice, but he wasn’t so lonely as to throw down all of his hard-kept secrets just for one man.

 

*

 

_“What the fuck, Steve?” Bucky didn’t even bother to close the door of the apartment – he shoved it too hard, sent it clattering back out of the frame to hang open, and Steve stared. Bucky had a split lip and a face like thunder. He was so angry and riled up he was shaking. “What’s the big idea?”  
_

_“W-What do you mean, Buck?”_

_“Roker just asked me if I was some queer,” Bucky sneered.  
_

_“Roker’s a jackass,” Steve replied. “Don’t-”  
_

_“He wanted to know if I was queer because he thinks you are. Apparently you were talking with that fucking princess William Watson down by the yard last night. On your own with him. So what, Steve, am I living with a queer? Is that what this is?”  
_

_“I’m not a queer!” Steve shouted back. It sounded more convincing than he’d thought it would. Sounded like he was surprised – which he was, but for completely different reasons. He’d picked the side fence of the yard because it was out of the way. He hadn’t thought anyone would see them. “He wanted to say goodbye to me Buck, he’s going upstate to his uncle’s farm!”  
_

_“What, did he want to give you a goodbye kiss, is that it?”  
_

_“No! God- no, Buck!”_ As if we’d dare, out in public. I didn’t even touch him. _  
_

_“You’re an idiot, Steven Rogers. You think you’re being nice, keeping company with scum like him, but if people start thinking you’re a queer they’re gonna kill you. You wanna die?”_

_“No!”  
_

_“Then stop being so fucking naïve! If you lie down with a dog, you get up with fleas!” Bucky finally stopped, panting and red in the face. He turned his back sharply, like an offended cat, and walked over to close the door. Steve wondered how much the neighbours had heard – everything, probably. The walls in their building were paper-thin.  
_

_“I’m sorry, Buck.” His voice shook. He really hoped the neighbours didn’t hear that, at least.  
_

_“I don’t want you to be sorry, Steve I want you to understand. Look, I know you’re no queer, but you have to be careful what other people think.”  
_

_“Sure Buck. I know. I just…I just wanted to be kind to him. He just wanted to say goodbye.”  
_

_“Well it’s said and done now. You won’t be seeing him again, and now you know better than to make friends with people like him.”  
_

_“Yeah.”  
_

I know better than to make friends with them, Buck, but I still can’t help myself.

*

 

Three days later Steve was looking at the grainy picture of Bucky and the other Commandos again, lying idly on his bed and wondering what to do with the day, when Loki appeared in front of him. His reaction was as immediate as it was instinctive; he shouted in surprise and scrambled to his feet, the photo fluttering down to land face-down on the blankets. Loki raised an eyebrow in judgement. 

“You are still unused to my teleportation, even now?” 

“I wasn’t expecting you!” Steve replied. 

“No, and I was not expecting to be harassed morning, noon and night by that overgrown retriever Thor. And when I dare to ask what has brought on this fit of mad affection I am told that it was you who planted the seed of this in his head.” 

“Oh.” 

“I am offended, Captain Rogers, that you should think yourself an expert on me and my opinions. I did not think you so arrogant – and you are certainly no telepath.” 

Steve stared for a few seconds, and then realised the mistake. “No, what? I wasn’t…I wasn’t saying I know you or anything. But I’m an orphan too, you know. I was just telling him what it can feel like. You know. When you know you’re not wanted.” 

For the first time ever, Loki looked surprised. He cocked his head to one side, examining Steve as if he were trying to sense a lie. “Thor neglected to mention that fact.” 

There was a brief silence. Steve noticed a lot of things in the space. Loki was wearing human clothes – he must have just been to the library. He looked tired, too, like he hadn’t slept for days. It was only after that that Steve realised that Loki was in his _bedroom_. 

“Your parents…they died?” Loki was clearly trying for offhand, but it was obvious that he really wanted to know. 

“My mom died in labour and my dad dumped me with the sisters.” 

“Sisters?” 

“Nuns. Religious women. It was an orphanage run by the church. What about your parents?” 

“The Allfather found me abandoned in a temple,” Loki said. “I am…small, for a frost giant, and they are a harsh people. Probably I was left there to die.” 

“Think that’s probably why my dad gave me up too. I was really sickly, as a kid.” 

“Thor had mentioned that you were much smaller before you were given your…what was it, the potion they gave you? ‘Serum’?” 

Steve nodded, and then tried to contain his embarrassment as Loki looked him up and down without even trying to hide it. “I prefer this version of you. I like my men to be masculine.” 

“Um…th-thank you?” 

Loki smiled, a bright, wicked grin that was all teeth and glittering eyes. “You are a pleasure to tease, Captain Rogers. Far more fun than Stark. That man is unshockable.” 

“He’s uh, he’s been around, that’s for sure.” 

Loki smiled again. It was a genuine smile this time, not filthy like the one before. “Thor has asked me to make lemon cakes for him today – proper Asgardian ones, not the feeble imitations sold in your convenience stores. Perhaps you would like to try one?” 

“Sure, I love lemons. I always used to buy sherbet lemons when I had spare money. Those are candies, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried them?” 

“I have not. There is still much about Midgard that I need to explore.” Loki’s smile turned flirtatious again. It was amazing what he could do with just a quirk of his lips – like he could express the entire gamut of human emotion with the set of his mouth alone. Steve was willing to bet that Loki was a good kisser. He imagined what it would be like to sweep Loki into his arms, press their lips together, feel that expressive mouth move against his own… 

_Don’t be an idiot, Steve._

“So, uh, when are you going to make your cakes?” 

“I will bake them once the others have eaten dinner. I have no desire to share a kitchen with Agent Barton or his lady love.” 

“Clint and Natasha aren’t…” Steve caught Loki’s knowing look. “Are they?” 

“They are, and if I am any judge they have been for quite some time.” Loki waved his fingers in dismissal. “I will leave you to your photographs.” 

“Oh, I, uh…” 

“You look surprised. I have eyes, Captain Rogers, and I think you forget that that,” Loki pointed to the photo, where it sat on the bed. “Is only a more modern version of my sketches. I, of all people, understand your desire to remember the ones you have lost.” 

He disappeared. This time he was close enough that Steve felt the slight inrush of air he left in his wake. He sat down on his bed and turned over the photo. Bucky was scowling at the camera, arms folded, hat pulled down low. Steve swallowed, hard, and wondered what his best friend would have thought of him being sweet on, not just a man, but a man who’d tried to kill him. He’d be horrified. Worse than horrified. 

Bucky had always been a black-and-white kind of guy – you were bad, or you were good – but Steve had never seen the world that way. There were two sides to every story. Most of the shoplifters he’d ever seen were stealing so their kids could eat, for instance. It wasn’t legal, but it wasn’t so bad. Okay, Loki wasn’t any run-of-the-mill shoplifter. He was a killer. But Steve couldn’t judge him so harshly knowing that Loki had been abandoned, lied to, that he’d lost all of his children. And he was trying. Making an attempt to right his wrongs, which was more than most criminals did.

 _And he’s gorgeous…_

Steve stamped that thought down hard, stared at Bucky’s moody expression until he felt small and disgusting and ashamed again.

 

*

 

As it turned out Loki had quite a talent for cooking, and he’d made enough cakes for a small army, so Steve ended up squashed around the kitchen table with Bruce, Tony, Pepper, Thor and of course Loki himself. 

“Lokes, seriously, will you marry me? These are amazing.” Tony backed up the compliment by shoving another cake into his mouth whole and chewing noisily. Pepper jabbed him in the arm with her elbow.

“You still have to eat them like a human being and not a monkey, Tony.” 

Tony rolled his eyes at her. Bruce laughed. Loki smiled. It was a hopeful kind of smile. “Do you also like them, Doctor Banner?” 

“Yeah. They’re, uh, they’re really good.” 

“Good? Nay, Doctor, they are nectar! Another, Loki, for your favourite brother!” 

Loki shook his head, but he didn’t look remotely annoyed. “You are only so complimentary when food is involved, Brother. Perhaps if you flatter me again I will make almond rolls next time.” 

“By the Norns, Loki, I will love you forever if you do!” 

“What, Thor? I thought you loved me already.” It sounded so casual, but it was clearly a serious question. Steve’s heart was in his mouth as he waited for Thor to reply, hoping that he wouldn’t say anything stupid or insensitive. 

“I will love you thrice as much as I already do if you will make me almond rolls,” Thor replied solemnly, shoving two lemon cakes into his mouth at once. He was so busy eating that he didn’t notice Loki’s brief look of affection, but Steve did. It made something tug deep in his stomach, and he was actually thankful when Tony choked on his cake a few seconds later and coughed half-chewed crumbs all over him. 

When Tony was breathing again and Pepper was done lecturing him on how to not eat like a five-year-old, Steve got to his feet. “Think I’ll call it a night, guys. Thanks for the cake, Loki.” 

“You are welcome, Captain Rogers. If there is any other delicacy you desire, well, you have only to ask.” 

After that subtle come-on, Steve blushed all the way back to his room. As he stood under the fierce spray of the shower he thought about Loki, and it wasn’t long before his thoughts started to get dirty. In his imagination Loki was fierce and possessive, kisses full of teeth and moaning and hands clawing through Steve’s hair. Flexible, legs around Steve’s waist as he was shoved back against the cold tiles, keening with pleasure, eyes black with lust. 

Steve hadn’t even finished coming before the shower started to wash the evidence away. Breathing heavily, he stood on shaking legs with his arm braced against the wall for balance and listened to his pulse thudding in his ears. It seemed that no matter how much he tried to tell himself not to go there, it didn’t work. He wanted Loki. He hadn’t at first, but where along the way had his polite tolerance turned into this all-consuming desire? He had no idea. All he knew was that getting with Loki was a bad, bad idea, and that he was probably going to go ahead with it anyway. It was like being at the top of a rollercoaster, waiting for the inevitable drop, terrifying and exciting at the same time.

 

*

 

_“Good evening, Captain Rogers.” Steve had always liked English accents, especially when they belonged to such good-looking guys.  
_

_“Evening, Private. Is this my tent?”  
_

_“Yes sir, dinner’s on the table waiting for you.”  
_

_Steve smiled at the soldier in front of him. He was perky, with a bit of a mischievous look on his face. Dark hair, swept back from his face. Nice smile. “I take it you’re looking after me at this camp, Private?”  
_

_“As best as I can, sir.”  
_

_“What’s your name?”  
_

_“Farringdon, sir. Alan Farringdon.” Alan’s eyes made a lazy zigzag down Steve’s body and then back up to his face. “At your service.”  
_

_Steve felt desire lurch in his stomach. He knew he was going to have Alan Farringdon if he could, knew he was going to even though they were in the middle of an army base, in the middle of a war. “Pleased to meet you, Farringdon.”  
_

_Alan smiled. Well, maybe it was more of a smirk of satisfaction. “The pleasure’s all mine, sir.” Steve pushed open the flap of the tent, looking over his shoulder at Alan.  
_

_“Are you coming inside, or are you going back to your barracks?”  
_

_“I should come inside, sir. There may be something you need that I haven’t anticipated.”_

_Steve led the way inside, and Alan secured the flap with deft fingers. Steve wanted to grab him where he stood, crush him up against his body and kiss him until he couldn’t see straight, but he knew it never worked like that the first time. The first time was always tentative, hesitant. Steve had never known men like them to be bold if they didn’t know for sure they’d be received with open arms, so he sat at the table and started to eat his roast chicken as Alan tidied the bed, pulling the sheets tight.  
_

_“Tell me about yourself, Farringdon.”  
_

_“Not much to tell, sir. I’m the fourth son of the Earl of Cardigan, I play the viola tolerably well and I’m fond of opera. Perhaps instead of listening to my boring life story, you would be so kind as to tell me yours?” Alan came to stand next to Steve, leaning his hands on top of the table.  
_

_“I guess I don’t have a very interesting story either. Before the serum I was pretty ordinary.” Steve put down his knife and fork over his half-eaten dinner. “I like to draw.” He edged his hand across the table, nudged it against Alan’s, slid it on top. “I like guys with cute accents like yours,” He breathed, hoping.  
_

_“So funny you should say that, sir. I happen to like dashing Americans like yourself.”_

_And with that dance over Steve stood, hands on Alan’s shoulders as they kissed. It was frantic and terrifying and it was all he could do not to moan out loud as the younger man slipped a hand under the waistband of his pants. “Can you stay quiet, sir?” He asked, smirking.  
_

_“As a mouse,” Steve breathed. “What do you want to do?”  
_

_“I want to suck you,” Alan replied, eyes glazed with lust. He was good, too – Steve had never come so hard just from someone’s mouth, but before he could return the favour Alan had spilled into his own hand, curling over on himself as he fought to stay silent. He looked so utterly debauched and beautiful kneeling there on the floor with his spent cock in his hand, his hair a mess and his expression one of lazy satisfaction.  
_

_“How long are you in camp, sir?”_

_“I’m not sure. A week, maybe two.”  
_

_Alan sighed, lips pressing together in a girlish pout. “That isn’t nearly enough time for everything I’d like to do to you, but we’ll have to make do, I suppose.”_

 

*

 

Steve felt the impact of the bullet like a hammerblow, knocking him off-course midair and sending him crashing down onto the concrete, breath completely knocked out of him. His chest was on fire, white-hot pain drilling all the way up his neck to dance around his brain. God, it hurt. But if he hadn’t jumped the bullet would have hit Natasha, and she was a lot less durable than he was. 

“Steve!” 

“Ow,” Steve replied. The sky seemed to be spinning. It was really quite disconcerting. 

“Steve’s hit! I need a medic!” Natasha’s voice was shrill in her concern, and Steve wanted to reassure her. Only his mouth didn’t seem to want to form words and suddenly he felt very cold. He closed his eyes, listening to the thudding of boots on concrete. 

“Is the Captain hurt?” 

“He’s been shot, Thor, he’s bleeding out, he needs a doctor!” Natasha’s tone was gearing up towards hysterical, but Steve found that he didn’t feel so bad. The pain had turned to dull fire, and his body felt heavy and sleepy, like he’d just had a really good meal. 

“I know no doctor,” Thor said. “But Loki will be able to fix this. Loki! To me! I have need of you!” 

“Odinson!” Loki’s voice was all anger and outrage. “What do you mean, calling me…” A pause. “All of you stand back. And stay back.” 

And then there was just pain. Like icy knives stabbing into him, straight through him. Steve was sure he was screaming, but he couldn’t hear anything apart from the frantic thudding of his heartbeat. 

He woke up in bed, and for a while he thought he’d had yet another nightmare. He was always being shot in his nightmares, shot and beaten to death and tortured, but then it occurred to him that he didn’t usually wake up from dreams wearing bandages. He started to sit up, but the pain of it nearly knocked him out again. “Jarvis,” He said instead, “Can you…tell someone I’m awake?” 

“I have already taken the liberty of informing all of the Avengers that you are back with us, Captain Rogers. I hope I did not act prematurely.” 

“It’s okay.” Steve closed his eyes for a second, breathed deeply, and opened his eyes again to find Loki standing over him. “Oh. That was fast." 

“I am nothing if not punctual,” Loki replied. “How do you feel?” 

“Sore.” 

“That is to be expected; magic can only heal so much before the body has to take over and finish the job. You will need to rest for some time before you return to active duty.” 

“I’ll be fine. Serum, remember?” 

Loki smiled, but it wasn’t a very friendly smile. “If you get out of bed before I say you may, I will use magic to keep you here. My stunning spells are second to none. Ask Thor, he will attest to this.” And then his frown receded, like the clouds breezing away from a summer sky. “I am glad you are well. You were in terrible condition when I reached you, and you have been asleep for almost two days now.” 

“Two days?” Steve started in surprise, and the resulting pain was so fierce it made white lights spark behind his eyelids. 

“Hush, Captain Rogers. No-one has died in your absence and New York is still in one piece. Now you must rest. Are you hungry?” 

“No. I feel kind of…kind of sick, actually.” 

“That is not unheard of; your body has been through a terrible trauma. Is there anything that would make you more comfortable – more cushions, music, something to drink?” 

Steve tried to move his arm and pain lanced through him like a firebrand. Shame painkillers wouldn’t do anything for him these days. “I don’t need anything right now.” He sighed. “You know, I could have sworn I got shot, but I really feel like I got hit by a bus.” 

That made Loki snort in amusement. He sat down delicately on the edge of the mattress, crossing his legs. “And that is why you will be staying in bed until I say otherwise. Worry not, the others are surely on their way to see you. You will not be bored.” 

The idea of being sociable when he felt this awful and tired didn’t appeal to Steve in the slightest. “Can I pretend to be asleep?” He asked, only half-joking. 

“You could,” Loki said. “Or I could simply tell the others that you need peace and rest and to come back tomorrow.” 

“Would you?” Steve asked, grateful for the favour. He felt too fuzzy-headed and sore to deal with well-wishers. He wanted to sleep, preferably until he was completely healed and not crawling all over with aches and pains. 

“Jarvis, please inform the Avengers that their captain is awake and well, but very tired and currently unable to see visitors.” 

“Of course, Mister Laufeyson.” There was a brief pause. “Mister Stark has asked me to relay a message. He says: ‘Tell Cap to get well soon, or there’ll be no-one to stop Thor eating all of the poptarts.’.” 

Steve started to laugh, but it hurt so much that the humour died on his lips. He hissed against the pain, but rather than being sympathetic Loki only tutted at him. 

“Perhaps this will teach you not to catch bullets with your flesh. You have many excellent qualities, Captain, but being bulletproof is unfortunately not one of them.” 

“I had to take the hit,” Steve protested, his voice slurring in his exhaustion. “Or it would have killed Nat.” 

“You are entirely too chivalrous to be real, do you know that?” 

“Can’t help it,” Steve replied. Sleep ran enticing fingers down his spine, over his eyelids. “Always knew my life wasn’t worth that much in the first place.” 

“I see. Well, that explains a great deal, but it also suggests to me that you are in need of sleep.” Steve nodded his agreement. “Then sleep, Captain Rogers. Let dreams carry you away, and sleep.” Whether it was because of a spell or just the low lull of Loki’s voice, Steve felt himself drifting into unconsciousness within seconds. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that Loki had a very soothing voice…almost European… 

_Guess I have a thing for fancy accents…_

 

*

 

_“Oh my, sir, if you want to stick that in me you’re going to have to gag me,” Alan reclined on the bunk like a preening cat, looking up with a seductive smile. “If you don’t I’m sure I’ll scream the entire camp awake.”  
_

_“If it’s too much,” Steve began. He’d never imagined ever saying that to any guy, but that was the serum for you. He was bigger everywhere, and in some places that wasn’t such a good thing. “I mean, we don’t have to…”_

_“Oh, I want to,” Alan replied, running the tip of one finger down Steve’s stomach. “But you can’t expect me to keep quiet while that beast’s inside me. Maybe…” He pretended to be careless. “Maybe you could just put your hand over my mouth to shut me up.” Steve had always found sex with men required a certain sensitivity. He wasn’t sure if it was the same if it was a woman, but he’d never met a man who was completely honest or direct about what he wanted in bed.  
_

_“Get on your hands and knees for me, then, and I’ll see what I can do,” He said._

_Even when Alan bit his fingers and hissed and writhed under him, Steve didn’t move his hand. He just clamped it tighter, muffling Alan’s moans against the skin of his palm. It was a win-win situation – having his mouth covered drove Alan wild, and it also ensured that no-one ever heard them. The Howling Commandos stayed in the same camp for close to a month in the end, and by the time they left Steve knew he would never again fall for the myth that English people were staid and prudish._


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos once again, it's so nice to have your support and thank you for reading!

It turned out that Loki was a solicitous doctor, and he insisted on seeing Steve every day to observe his recovery even after he was up and on his feet. Sometimes he came in Asgardian clothes, but Steve liked it best when he turned up in jeans and fitted shirts, when he could see the spare curve of Loki’s backside and the defined muscles in his forearms. Not, of course, that he said anything, and neither did he respond to Loki’s continued flirting. He just couldn’t; couldn’t find the words to come up with anything witty in response, to admit out loud that he was every bit as queer as Loki seemed to wish he was, to say anything at all. Instead he fell back on the same cautious ritual that had preceded every love affair, every sexual encounter, all the way through his life. 

He waited and waited for the right moment, until one Saturday found him and Loki alone in the tower’s cavernous living room. Tony was in Malibu, Clint and Natasha were away on SHIELD business, Bruce was safely ensconced in his lab, and Thor had dragged himself to bed ten minutes before, wondering aloud how either of them could still be interested in the TV show when it was obvious that the maid was the killer. 

“Thor is entirely too easily fooled,” Loki said, when the lady of the manor was dragged away in handcuffs on-screen. 

“Mm,” Steve agreed. They were sitting next to each other. Not close, but on the same side of the enormous sofa. He shifted, ostensibly to get comfortable, but in reality it brought them a little bit closer. That was how it always went. Closer and closer, slowly, nudging the line between a friendly touch and a loving caress, pushing the boundary until you were told to stop, or to carry on. “I thought it was the gardener, actually.” 

“Too obvious,” Loki replied. “Are there any more episodes? I like the leading actress. She rather reminds me of Hela.” 

“Oh, is Hela a redhead?” Steve always felt trusted and reliable when Loki brought up his kids. As far as he knew Loki had never told Thor how badly he missed them, how much it hurt him to be separated from them, so that made him the only person Loki trusted with his memories of them. 

“No. She is like me, black-haired and green-eyed. The similarity is in their manner, not their appearance. Hela is terribly bossy – as one might expect, from a queen.” 

“Wonder where she gets that from?” 

“Hela inherited all of her best qualities from me,” Loki replied airily. “Her temper and her stubbornness, she inherited from her mother.” 

“Didn’t you say her mother was a giant? Oh no, that was Jormungand.” 

“Angrboda is Hela’s mother too. And Fenrir’s. We were lovers for a great many years before she tired of me and left. That was after she attempted to strangle me. It was what you mortals call a ‘stormy relationship’.” 

“I can’t imagine anyone being crazy enough to try strangling _you_ ,” Steve replied, smiling. 

“Angrboda is eight feet tall and built like an ox, or she was the last time I saw her.” 

“Oh.” 

“Indeed. Incidentally, I have never been foolish enough to involve myself with any other giants since.” Loki yawned, and Steve realised that the god had inched up the sofa toward him while he wasn’t looking. He felt a little indignant at being beaten at his own game, but at least Loki seemed to understand the rules. There was no part of Steve that would let him be honest about what he was, what he wanted. So he turned his body, bringing them within an inch of each other, and prayed. 

“Are you tired? We could watch the rest tomorrow.” 

“I am not _very_ tired,” Loki replied. Steve had to fight to keep a straight face as Loki breached that last inch of space and leaned against him with a soft sigh. “You are very comfortable, Captain Rogers. I hope you have no objections to being my pillow for a while.” 

“No,” Steve replied. “I don’t mind.” 

Loki shifted, and it felt like a natural progression for Steve to slip an arm around him. He could feel the bones of Loki’s ribs against his bicep. He could feel Loki’s breath against his neck. He made himself breathe evenly, but keeping up the pretense was hard, especially when Loki’s next move was to sneak his fingers up beneath the soft cloth of Steve’s shirt, fingers tracing the curve and dip of his stomach muscles. 

“You are a strange man, Captain Rogers. You never encourage me, and yet you never tell me to stop either. What am I to think?” 

Steve closed his eyes. “I don’t know,” He replied. “What do you think?” 

“I think you want me. But you are afraid. Am I wrong?” 

“No. You’re not wrong.” There was a long silence. Steve kept his eyes closed, clenched them shut, listened to the hammering of his heart in his chest. The steady progression of touching to _touching_ he could do. But trying to speak aloud, trying to put words to his feelings, to his shame, was beyond him. Fortunately Loki didn’t seem to need answers. 

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” The god breathed, and before Steve could form another rational thought Loki kissed him. He submitted without a whisper of resistance, groaning low in his throat as Loki climbed into his lap and forced their bodies closer together. It took several seconds for him to remember that he had hands of his own, bringing them up to rest on Loki’s back as the god sank against him, forcing Steve’s head back, exposing his neck. 

Steve’s body felt like it was on fire. Like a car, 0-60 in seconds, sweat gathering at his temples as he was reminded of what he hadn’t tasted for so long. He bit back a whimper as Loki licked a burning line up his jugular and then nibbled at his earlobe. “You are exquisite,” The god whispered. “You are a god among Midgardians.” He pressed his lips against the shell of Steve’s ear, making him shiver. “I have lusted after you for weeks, I have dreamed of having you, dreamed of you fucking me until I see stars, dreamed of riding your cock until you finish inside me, oh I have dreamed, Steve, and I fully mean to make those dreams a reality now.” 

“Loki!” All Steve could manage was a strangled gasp. It was too much, too much to take in. The weight of Loki’s body, the touch of his hands, the words he was saying, it was all overwhelming. Grasping for control, Steve brought his hand to Loki’s face, crushed their lips together again. 

The next thing he knew he was being shoved backwards onto a bed. Loki’s bed. “That’s never not going to be weird,” He panted. Loki smirked. 

“You will become used to it. Now, I believe you were kissing me?” 

It was easier on the bed with Loki on top of him, rutting against his thigh and kissing him again and again until his lips and chin were wet and his cock felt like it would explode at any second. It had been so long, too long, his body seemed to burn with lust and Loki was no more composed. His hair was in complete disarray and his eyes were half-lidded and sensual. “I could kiss you all night, Steve, but I think I would enjoy it more with your cock inside me.” Steve’s hands went automatically for the ties of Loki’s tunic, but the entire garment was gone before he could get there, along with the rest of the god’s clothes. Loki’s smirked at him, looking very pleased with himself. “Magic has many useful applications,” He said lightly, laughing at Steve’s surprise. “But it seems so terribly unfair that I am naked and you are fully clothed, now.” 

The thought went from Steve’s cock straight to his muscles without even bothering with his brain. He sat up, grabbed his t-shirt by the hem and dragged it up and off, hurling it who knew where on the floor of Loki’s room and groaning in ecstasy as the god started to lap at his stomach, tongue running in teasing circles up to his nipples. At the same time, Loki’s hands were busy at Steve’s zipper, clawing open his jeans like they were the wrapping on a present. 

“I will not wait any longer, Steve. I want you to _fuck_ me.” Loki was a picture of debauchery as he crawled to the head of the bed on his hands and knees. 

“Have you got…?” 

Clearly Loki had something, because without even bothering to reply he brought two glistening fingers up to his backside and plunged them inside his body with a soft hiss of pleasure. It was a glorious show – Loki was ridiculously handsome, slender and well-proportioned with pert, smooth buttocks – and he was totally unashamed, not even the slightest bit hesitant or unsure. That struck Steve more than anything else. Loki was fearless, and that was more enticing than any amount of kissing or touching could ever be. 

“Now, Steve. Take me.” Steve didn’t waste a second in obeying. He slid into Loki in one go, making the god gasp and snatch at the blanket with his elegant fingers. “By the Norns, you will break me in two,” He breathed. Steve started to pull out, feeling guilty. “I did not tell you to stop.” 

“If it’s too much…” 

“If it is too much, I will tell you.” Loki shifted his body, pushing back against Steve with a soft exhale of breath. “It has been a long time,” He said. “I have missed this feeling.” 

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “Me too. A real long time.” He nudged his hips forward gently and Loki arched his back, inviting him in deeper. 

“I am ready, Steve. You need not be gentle. I am no maiden, I will not break.” 

Steve had no idea what it was like to go to bed with a ‘maiden’, as Loki so delicately put it, but he did know his way around a man’s body. Bracing his hands on Loki’s waist he pulled halfway out and then pushed back in, angling his hips and smiling as Loki gasped. “Again,” Came the hissed order, and Steve was only too happy to oblige. It took a few thrusts to find a rhythm, nothing too fast but enough to keep Loki gasping under his breath. Steve loved the sound of it. Every gasp, every soft moan was like a little victory. He was mapping Loki, working out what he liked and how he liked it, and it was so good to feel this way again, to be inside another man, to feel Loki’s muscles tensing around his cock. 

“Faster, I need more!” Steve didn’t mind being bossed around when acquiescing made Loki shudder and throw his head back. “Oh, like that!”

_Volume. Careful.  
_

Steve felt his fingers slipping against Loki’s skin and adjusted his grip. They were both sweating, panting. He could feel himself getting closer and closer, feel his balls tightening ready to spill. 

“I can’t…Loki, I can’t…” 

“A little more! Oh, more! More!” Steve leaned forward, changing his angle so he could reach for Loki’s mouth. It was automatic, ingrained in him from years of living behind tenement walls and in tents. “So close, so close! Yes! Oh, oh, STEVE!” Steve’s fingers closed over Loki’s lips a second too late. He felt the body beneath him stiffen and arch and prayed no-one had heard as he thrust into Loki one last time and the world turned white. It was the most intense orgasm he’d had for a long time and it took him a few seconds to remember how to think. 

Sweaty, exhausted, he pulled out of Loki and sat back on his heels. “Are you okay?” Loki grunted his assent, lowering himself down onto the blankets carefully. Steve stroked the back of one of the god’s pale calves, and sighed. “I guess I should go. Wouldn’t want Thor to find me here. Or, you know, anyone else.” Coming down from the adrenalin high, Steve felt sudden anxiety grip his stomach. “You won’t…tell anyone. Will you?” 

“No. I will not tell.” Loki sounded exhausted. Steve felt a tiny bit guilty – but in a very satisfied way. He gathered his clothes up and pulled them back on. At the door he turned back to look at Loki and smiled fondly. 

“See you tomorrow. Goodnight.” 

Loki raised one hand in a feeble wave and then dropped it back to the duvet. Who knew he was so sweet when he was all fucked-out? Steve made his way back to his own room feeling giddy. In all the time since he’d woken up he’d thrown all of his time into fighting. Into being a hero. And it felt so, so good to finally do something just for himself. He put himself to bed without even bothering to turn the lights on, daydreaming about more evenings alone with Loki as he drifted off.

 

*

 

“Gee, someone’s chipper this morning.” Bruce looked at Steve owlishly as he bounced into the kitchen. He’d gotten up with the dawn to go running, and he’d even gone so far as to take his backpack with him so he could bring back two huge slices of pecan pie from the bakery he liked. Most of the others were still away, so why not take advantage of their absence? He wasn’t sure if Loki would like pecan pie, but it would surely be an education for him to try it. 

“I’m always like this first thing. I’m a morning person.” 

“I’m not. Anyway, I only came up for coffee. I’m this close to working something out.” Bruce held his fingers an inch apart, shaking his head in resignation. “I’ll see you later, Steve.” 

“Sure, Bruce. Don’t work too hard!” Bouncing on his heels, Steve went to Loki’s door. It was already nine, so hopefully it wasn’t too early. He buzzed for entry, and the door slid open straight away. His first thought was that Loki clearly wasn’t a morning person either. He was lying in a heap of blankets and pillows, peeking out from beneath several layers. 

“What is it?” He asked, sounding muffled and irritated. Steve couldn’t help but smile. 

“Sorry. I thought you’d be up.” 

“Clearly I am not. What do you want?” 

“Nothing. I just wanted to see you.” Loki raised one eyebrow, then flopped down onto the mattress again. 

“I am sleeping. Go away.” 

“Aw, come on. I brought you a present.” 

“I do not want a present. Not from you.” 

Steve’s high spirits plummeted right down into his sneakers. “What?” 

Loki turned his back, curling up another layer over himself. “Someone will find out, if we continue.” 

“But…” Steve was inches from saying that he was good at keeping secrets. How long had he and William been together and still managed to keep it from Bucky? But Loki spoke before he could even open his mouth. 

“And I would be so ashamed if my brother were to find out that I’d lowered myself to taking a Midgardian to bed with me.” 

The words hurt far worse than being shot, that was for sure. Steve’s shoulders sagged. “But Loki…” 

“Please go. Do not embarrass yourself.” 

Steve’s first instinct was to shout. To break something. To demand more than a cold brush-off and perfunctory goodbye. “Fine,” He heard himself say. “Fine.” He went straight to the gym and broke the first three punching bags he touched. That made him feel a little bit better – until he looked over and saw that one of the fragments of foam and fiberglass had landed on top of his discarded bag. The pie would be mush now, ground into the bottom of his bag like dirt on the sidewalk. 

He was shaking, and he knew it wasn’t from exertion. He _hurt_. It didn’t make _sense_. Well, no, it did. He’d had plenty of guys for one night before, but always on the understanding that that was how it would be. None of them had ever turned around later and told him they regretted it. That they regretted him. 

Suddenly Steve felt like he was about to cry. He abandoned the gym and went back to his room, and just about made it over the threshold before his tears broke and started tracing their way down his cheeks. He’d never felt so worthless in his life – not when he’d found out his father didn’t want him, not when Bucky had lectured him about how disgusting queers were, not when he was at the army base getting teased for being small, never. He dashed the tears away with the back of his hand and tried to tell himself it was Loki’s loss. 

The only trouble was, it wasn’t. Loki was a god, he was magic, and he had every right to be disappointed by a human. What was it he’d said about that giantess? Eight feet tall and built like an ox? Tall and built as he was, Steve knew he couldn’t compare to that kind of figure. And Thor would be angry if he found out. Everyone would be angry, and not with Loki. They would be angry with Steve, with Captain America, because Captain America wasn’t a queer and he definitely didn’t fuck people who tried to take over the world. 

Scathing headlines jeered through Steve’s head. God, they could crucify him if they knew. If Loki told even one person, if someone even suspected…

It was hard to breathe. Steve forced his lungs to work, breathe in, breathe out. He felt nauseous. Like his insides were boiling. Eventually it got so bad that he went out for another run, but even that didn’t work. Usually it calmed him down, running. He could switch off, run without thinking and just let the steady rhythm of his feet on the sidewalk guide him, but now his head was a buzzing hornets nest. He passed a news stand and imagined his face on all the front pages. Captain America in Disgrace. Captain America the Queer. 

But Loki had given his word, hadn’t he? He’d said he wouldn’t tell. 

_Relying on the word of someone they call the God of Lies? Smart, Steve._

Despair clenched in his stomach, and he resolved to go back to the tower and impress on Loki the need for secrecy. He made great time on the way back, but when he pushed the buzzer this time, Loki didn’t answer.

 

*

 

Loki didn’t answer in the afternoon, or in the evening, and he was just as unresponsive the next morning. Now Steve knew how Thor had felt, being shut out without so much as a word. He pushed the door buzzer again, hard, jamming his finger against the button in desperation. 

“Hey Cap, why are you trying to break my door?” 

“Oh, uh, hi Tony.” In his panic, Steve had forgotten Tony was due back from Malibu.

“Even weirder, why are you trying to break Loki’s door? Reindeer Games stole your apple pie recipe or something?” 

Steve tried to laugh. All that happened that his mouth curved up in a humorless rictus. “Ha. Yeah, no. I just wanted to talk to him. You know how Thor worries.”

“Hey Jarvis, is Lokes still alive and kicking in there?” 

“Yes sir, vital signs all read as normal. Shall I relay a message?” 

Tony turned quizzical eyes on Steve. “Do you need him for something, or was this a ‘check he’s still alive’ kinda thing?” 

“Nope, just, ah, just checking he’s still alive. Later, Tony.” Steve all but ran back to his room. Jarvis. He’d forgotten Jarvis. He knew Tony didn’t have cameras in their rooms, but in the living room…oh God. The second Tony asked Jarvis if anything had happened in his absence he was going to find out about he and Loki getting handsy with each other on the sofa. 

Mad panic seized Steve’s chest again. He knew he had to go. Had to leave. He couldn’t bear to think what Tony would say when he found out. And Tony would tell everyone else. Someone would tell the press, and everything he’d worked so hard for would be nothing, just dust and ash in his hands. Captain Queer. Oh _God_. 

On autopilot, Steve packed a bag. Clothes. Photos. He left his uniform – wasn’t like anyone would ever let him wear it again, after all – and threw the hurried mess of packing onto his back. The gas tank on his bike was full, and it roared into life first time. 

“Going anywhere in particular, Captain Rogers?” 

“No!” Steve snapped. Jarvis. Fuck Jarvis, and fuck Tony for inventing him. “I just want to clear my head, or is that not allowed any more?” 

“Forgive me, Sir. Enjoy your ride.” 

The traffic in the city was awful – it always was. Steve edged through the gaps where he could, waited where he couldn’t, and as soon as he broke onto the open road he gunned the accelerator and concentrated on getting as far away as he possibly could. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts. None of them were good thoughts. He relived Loki’s scornful dismissal a hundred times, imagined the same rejection coming from the mouths of all of his teammates, imagined Bucky shaking his head. 

_“If people start thinking you’re a queer they’re gonna kill you. You wanna die?”_

Well, why not? If this was the end of his life, what was the point in sticking around for the grand finale? But no, no, he couldn’t do that. He had commitments. Maybe he couldn’t be Captain America any more, but he could still help. Work for SHIELD. Something. He could do _something_. 

He stopped at a roadside stand and bought a burger and coffee. His Starkphone started to ring in his pocket and he answered it without thinking. 

“Uh, Cap? Why are you halfway to Canada?” 

The coffee hit the dirt, scattering up the bottom of Steve’s jeans. Tony and his technology were really starting to grind his gears. First Jarvis, now the stupid Starkphone, following him, tracking him. He dropped the phone like it burned and crushed it under his boot heel before tossing the remains of the burger into the trashcan and tearing away on his bike again. 

They couldn’t find him. He would have to fade away, change his name. Maybe make like William and go and work in the middle of nowhere on a farm. Let someone else be Captain America. Someone worthy. 

He rode through the night and into the next morning. That was one of the nice things about the serum, it let him keep going and going indefinitely if he needed to, and he needed to. Eventually he stopped for a slice of blueberry pie and a milkshake, and the waitress flirted with him. He felt like bursting into tears. Why couldn’t he just have been normal? Grown up normal, married a normal girl, had a family, had a nice little house by a river? 

An hour after the diner the tears finally caught up with him and he pulled over by the roadside, great heaving sobs tearing out of his throat. He found he had absolutely no resistance left; he sank to his knees, sagged down onto the floor, and cried. 

Eventually, he became aware of someone standing over him. Some concerned passer-by. He would have to run. What if they recognised him? 

“Steve…” 

No, they already recognised him. Choking on fresh sobs, Steve covered his face with his arm and wondered if Loki might be persuaded to kill him. 

“Peace, Steve. Do not cry.” Strong arms pulled him up into a sitting position. 

“I’m sorry!” Steve told him. “I’m sorry!”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It is I who should be sorry.” Steve let himself be pulled against a warm chest and held there. “I misunderstood you. I thought you had used me. So I was cruel to you, and I am sorry.” 

“Wh-What?” Steve sat up finally, wiping his eyes clean. Through the haze of his vision Loki looked shamefaced and uncomfortable. 

“In my defence, it is hard enough to understand Midgard as it is without also trying to unravel what is was like seventy years ago. I had no idea…the secrecy you had to keep, the caution. I thought you were silencing me because you were ashamed to be with me. I thought you left as soon as we were done because you did not want me.” 

“No!” Steve exploded, horrified. “I wouldn’t- I would never- I’m not-!” 

“Hush, Steve, I know. But at the time I did not. I was upset, and I have a very cruel tongue when I am roused. I am sorry, _ástin mín_.” 

“Aston what?” Steve asked, sniffing and trying to wipe away the worst of his snot and tears with one of his shirt sleeves. 

“It is a term of endearment,” Loki replied. “Though perhaps I do not deserve to use it, unless you can forgive my spite and ignorance.” 

“S-Sure I can.” Steve sniffed again. “But I still can’t go back. They all know about me now, don’t they? They know I’m _queer_ ,” It came out bitter and angry, and Loki frowned at him. 

“They do know that you prefer men, yes – I had forgotten Jarvis monitors the television room. Though Natasha inferred that she has always known, and so did Bruce. They do not care. And Thor certainly will not. He has had many affairs with men in his time.” 

“And the American public? I don’t think they’re gonna want a queer representing them.” 

“In that case, the American public might benefit from having its ideas challenged. Unless you think the way you lived before the ice, sneaking and hiding and dicing with death for a kiss, was a good thing. That it was just.” Loki’s grip tightened fiercely. “Myself, I call it villainy to force a man like you to be silent in his passions. I wondered why you were so quiet.” Loki raised his hand, stroking Steve’s cheek. He knew he looked a mess – he’d never been a pretty crier, and he knew he was snotty and tearstained and red-eyed. “Perhaps we might begin again. I am Loki of Asgard. And you are?” 

Steve smiled. More tears threatened to spill. “Steve Rogers of Brooklyn. Nice to meet you.” 

“Let us go home, Steve.” 

“Do I have to?” 

Loki didn’t reply, but in the next instant Steve found himself in the kitchen back at the tower, sitting on the floor with Loki close beside him and his bike towering at his back.

“Steve!” The impact of Bruce hitting him was enough to send him sprawling. “You’re back! Jarvis, tell everyone he’s back!”

“I have already alerted the other Avengers to his return, Sir. They are on their way.” 

“No,” Steve said, before he could stop himself. “No, I can’t…” He was still tearful and upset, and he wasn’t sure he could face everyone at once. “I’m really sorry,” He managed in the end, in his smallest voice. 

“It’s alright, Steve.” Bruce squeezed him around the shoulders. “We all need to run away sometimes. At least you didn’t end up in Outer Mongolia like I did.” 

“Have you…have you always known about me?” 

“Yeah. Caught you checking out Clint’s ass a few times and figured it out from that. I don’t care, though. No-one does, or no-one important anyway.” 

When Tony arrived he threw himself enthusiastically on top of them both as Loki tutted from the sidelines. “Cap! I’m so glad to see you I’m actually gonna forgive you for breaking that beautiful Starkphone I made just for you.” 

“Oh gosh, Tony, I’m sorry.” 

“Eh, gives me an excuse to make another one. Why Canada, though?” 

“I wasn’t aiming for Canada,” Steve replied stiffly. “I just wanted to get away for a while.” 

“Phew, you had me worried you wanted to change allegiance there, Cap. ‘Captain Mountie’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it, you know?” Steve laughed. It wasn’t a very good joke, but it was nice to be reassured that Tony still wanted him around. “And while we’re on the subject, are you and Reindeer Games a serious thing, because I know so many hot gay celebrities who’d give up their legs to see you in your birthday suit, you know?” 

Steve paused, not sure what the answer to that question even was. Fortunately Loki answered for him. 

“The next time you call me ‘Reindeer Games’, Stark, I am going to smash that convertible car you love so much. And if you continue trying to peddle out my lover to all and sundry, I shall make you _wear_ the convertible car.”

Everyone laughed. Pepper arrived with celebratory drinks and a huge box full of donuts, and then Thor landed on the balcony outside. “You found him, Loki!” 

“Indeed, brother. Satellite cameras really are no match for a sorceror with the ability to scry.” Loki smirked at Tony, who scowled back. Thor held up his hands, placating. 

“Peace, Man of Iron – the Captain was found, and that is all that matters. I have flown all over New York attempting to find you, Steve Rogers, I am glad to find you here safe on my return.” 

“I’m sorry, Thor.” 

“Nay, do not apologise! Loki tells me you were afraid that we might think less of you for having bedded with men, but it is not so. In fact, some of my most passionate lovers have been warriors like myself!” 

“Please, tell us more,” Loki said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Regale us with intimate stories of your manly lovers.” With a great guffaw of laughter, Thor threw his arm around Loki’s shoulders and squeezed him against his side. 

“Such tales would make even Tony Stark blush, brother. Now, let us drink to the Captain’s return!”

“Man, starting without us?” Clint and Natasha were both dressed in motorbiking leathers, looking windswept. “And after we came all the way across town. Have to say, Steve, it was a pretty shitty welcome back from Calcutta to find out you’d gone AWOL. Nat was so worried she nearly poked out Fury’s other eye.”

“Sorry,” Steve said. He felt like a broken record, but it seemed appropriate. He felt like he owed them all a whole series of apologies, like he should beg forgiveness for being so stupid and so fucked-up. 

“Ignore Clint,” Natasha said, jabbing her partner in the ribs with a pointed finger and making him yelp. “He likes to exaggerate. And he’s the one who insisted on running every red light on the way back here so he could make sure you were still in once piece.” 

“I’m okay,” Steve replied, abashed. “You shouldn’t have run lights on my behalf, what if you’d crashed?” 

Tony patted his shoulder affectionately. “And this is why we need you, Cap. Got to have at least one voice of reason in this madhouse. Now, I’m calling Avengers Movie Night since we’re all here for the first time in months. Jarvis, order us some pizza from that really good place from last time, would you?” 

“Certainly, Sir.” 

“Oh, and we need some wedges, and plenty of those little sour cream dips, and wings. Definitely wings.” 

“I’ll place the order now, Sir.” 

The whole crowd of them moved into the living room. Steve hung back, hesitant, and Loki sidled up next to him. “They were all equally worried about you.” He said, looking at Tony’s retreating back. “You are very dear to them. And none of them judge you, for your preferences.” 

“I feel really stupid for running, now.” Steve admitted. 

“No, you are not stupid. We behave as we are taught, Steve, and you were taught from birth that your very nature was an abomination. It will take time for you to learn to love yourself, but I will encourage you along the way, worry not.” Loki’s lips quirked up into a filthy smirk, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“I just can’t get used to the way you and Thor talk about going with men and…and you’re not afraid at all, are you?” 

“No. Most of the Aesir take lovers of both genders over the course of their lives, so I would never be ashamed of admitting such about myself.” 

Before Steve could reply, Tony craned his head around the distant door to the living room. “Hey lovebirds, hurry up! We need to pick a movie and we’re in deadlock!” Rolling his eyes, Loki started to walk. Steve followed behind him. “So on the one hand, we have Scarface. That has gangsters and stuff. And on the other hand we have Pocahontas. That’s about Native Americans.” 

Steve went for Pocahontas, on the grounds that it sounded interesting. And it was interesting, though if he’d known it was a cartoon he probably wouldn’t have picked it. The songs were pretty cute at least, and really it was just nice to all be in the same room together again. When the pizza eventually arrived it was a riot of sharing and teasing and chatting. Thor hogged the pepperoni, so Loki levitated it out of his hands, Clint practically fought Tony for the last piece of Hawaiian, and while the rest of them were bickering Bruce laid waste to an entire large pizza all by himself. “What?” He said blithely when he was caught. “The Other Guy’s hungry tonight.” 

Natasha and Clint were the first to peel away. “Natasha’s back out on ops tomorrow and I’m jetlagged to fuck,” Clint explained, in his usual no-nonsense way. After that went Pepper, and of course Tony followed after her, ever hopeful. Bruce suddenly remembered an experiment he’d left running, and that left Loki, Thor and Steve all on the same sofa. 

“I have no intention of being the third spoke,” Thor said a couple of minutes after Bruce had left. “I will go and telephone Lady Jane, goodnight to you both.” 

“Third what?” Steve asked when he’d gone. Loki snickered. 

“He means ‘third wheel’,” He replied. “He has no grasp of Midgardian slang.” 

“Oh, right.” Steve slumped back against the cushions, tipping his head to rest it on the back of the sofa. “I’m so tired.” 

“You have not slept, of course you are tired. Go to bed, _ástin mín_.” 

“Sure I can’t just sleep here? I don’t feel like moving any more.” 

And then he was lying on his bed with Loki standing over him. It was slightly less disconcerting than before, but still weird. “Useful,” He said sleepily.

“Indeed. Goodnight, Steve. Sleep well.” 

“No, wait,” Steve replied, on a whim. “Stay with me tonight?” 

“Do you want me to?” Loki asked.

“Yeah. I do.” Steve hesitated. “You know, I’ve never slept the night with anyone before. I went from living in the orphanage to living with Bucky, and after that I was in the army. I never got a chance to sleep next to anyone I loved.” He’d always wondered what it would have been like, to wake up next to William. To curl up under the blankets with him and cuddle. It had always seemed like an unattainable dream, something he didn’t deserve, but now… 

Loki’s mouth turned down in disapproval, and Steve would have sworn he heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like ‘villainy’ under his breath. “Do you mind if I undress, then? I normally sleep without clothes.” 

“Sure. Me too. Just don’t really have the energy to take my pants off right now.” 

“As you know, Steve, magic has many useful applications.” Loki waved his hand, and Steve felt cool air brush across his naked back. 

“Thanks. Don’t know how you stay so thin when you have magic. Doesn’t it make you lazy?”

“I have an excellent metabolism, Loki replied. “And sometimes I forget to eat, that helps. Move across, anyway. I will turn out the light.” Steve felt a thrill of anticipation when the room turned dark and Loki climbed onto the bed beside him. “By the way, if you snore I will kick you until you stop.”

“Do I get to do the same to you?” 

Loki tutted. “I do not snore.” 

It was a lie; Loki did snore. Not very loudly, but he did. He seemed to be one of those enviable people who could fall asleep inside ten seconds, but Steve didn’t mind too much. It was nice to just lay there with Loki close to him. To feel his warmth. To feel the gentle brush of skin on skin. It was nice. Comforting. Everything he’d imagined he’d never have, in fact. Emotion seized him and he felt his eyes fill up with tears, but the feeling faded quickly. More than anything he felt safe. As if somebody wanted him. Well, Loki did want him. He’d said as much to Tony, hadn’t he? 

Steve rolled onto his side, pressing himself up against Loki’s back, and let sleep claim him without a fight.

 

*

 

_“Did you hear about that William Watson?” Bucky asked casually over breakfast (toast and the last of the jam, they were eking out their food money that month).  
_

_“No? What about him?”  
_

_“Apparently he died.”  
_

_“He…he died?” Steve echoed. In seconds he went from peaceful morning contemplation to feeling like the bottom of his world had been cut out. “What happened to him?”_

_“Farm accident. Got run over by a tractor or something, I heard.”  
_

_“Oh. That…that sure is a shame...”_

_In the end Bucky stayed home all day, so when it became too much to bear, too much to hide, Steve had to retreat to the roof so he could cry without earning himself an interrogation. Of course Bucky wasn’t bothered that William was dead – he’d always hated him. Everyone had hated William, that was why he’d moved away in the first place, so he didn’t end up dead in an alley somewhere. And just when Steve had thought he was done with sleepless nights and never being able to get William out of his mind…  
_

_“What are you moping around for, Steve? Oh, gimme a break, are you still cut up about that fairy boy dying?”  
_

_“I just think it’s a shame, that’s all.”  
_

_“Can’t say I’m sorry he’s dead. He always used to come round here sniffing after you. Give him a few more years and he might have turned you as queer as he was.”_

I’m already queer. I’ve always been queer. I’ve been queer since Edwin Thomas bent me over the radiator in the cloakroom when I was thirteen and fingered me. _  
_

_“Are you even listening, Steve?”  
_

_“Of course I’m listening, Buck.”  
_

When I was fifteen Father Morris fucked me in the confessional booth at the church. We did it loads of times and I never said no. I liked it. _  
_

_“You’ve always been a soft touch. You’re too nice, Stevie, that’s your trouble.”  
_

_“Yeah, I know.”  
_

Your boss at the factory is queer too, Buck. I know because I had him on his couch while his wife was out singing at the harvest festival. _  
_

_“Geez, Steve, just say a prayer for the guy and go to bed. You’re really getting on my nerves.”  
_

_“Sorry, Buck. Night.”  
_

I’m queer, Buck. I’m a total, complete, incurable queer. I can’t help it. 

_Bucky flicked off the light, and Steve pretended to sleep. It was only when he was sure Bucky was out for the count that he let himself cry into his pillow and grieve for William and his soft blonde curls and mischievous eyes. He knew it wasn’t Bucky’s fault. It wasn’t just him – everyone hated queers. But it still didn’t seem fair that he hadn’t even gotten to kiss William goodbye…_

 

*

 

It was a surreal feeling, waking up with someone else in his bed. Loki had curled up on his side during the night and his hair had fanned out across the pillow. It made a very fairtytale-esque picture – like Snow White crossed with Sleeping Beauty. Steve watched him for a minute, just appreciating the fact that he was there at all. It was only after his initial wonder subsided that he started to really look at Loki, look at the smooth line of his neck, the jut of his hipbones, the way his vertebrae stuck out – he was underweight for sure, and Steve found himself worrying about it. Maybe now all the confusion was over he would bring back more pecan pie, fatten Loki up a bit. Smiling, he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the god’s shoulderblade. 

“Mm?” It was actually pretty funny, seeing how disoriented Loki was just after waking up.

“Morning.”

“Mmhm,” The god agreed absently.

“I’m going running. Shall I bring back breakfast?” 

“Yes,” That reply was at least decisive, though Loki’s his voice was still muffled with sleep. Steve kissed his shoulder again and got up. He felt weird. Not a bad kind of weird, a good kind of weird. He almost wanted to whistle as he laced up his sneakers, but Loki had started to snore again and he couldn’t bear to wake him up when he looked so sweet and content in his dreams.

It was drizzling and grey outside, but nothing, not even almost getting run down by a careless driver, wiped the smile off Steve’s face. He was fairly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he went into the bakery. “Two slices of pecan pie to go, please,” He asked the girl behind the counter. 

“You sure are cheerful this morning. Good news?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah. Real good news.” And in his wild giddiness, on the spur of the moment, he added: “I’ve got a new boyfriend.” 

“Aw, that’s awesome! Good for you!” 

Steve grinned at her. “Thanks.” He was shocked at how much he dared. Maybe he was going mad. But no-one at the bakery knew him as Captain America – they didn’t even know him as Steve Rogers, in all honesty. He was just the guy who always came in first thing in his running gear - though now, of course, he would be the guy in running gear with the boyfriend. It felt…indescribable. Like ripping off a mask. 

As she handed him the boxed-up pie, the counter girl smiled at him. “You know, ever since you started coming in here I knew you had to be gay or married – all the pretty guys are nowadays.” 

“Really?” 

“Uh-huh,” She replied, with certainty. “I hope your sweetheart likes his pie, anyway.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Steve was sure he’d never made such good time on the run back, and he took the stairs two at a time on the way up. Bruce was lying slumped over the kitchen counter when he got there. “Ugh, Steve, stop being so cheerful on a morning,” He said when he saw Steve’s grin, cradling his coffee cup between both hands. 

“Can’t help it, Bruce, sorry!” Steve poured himself a glass of water and drank it all in one go. “How’s the science thing going?” 

“It’s not. I’m taking a break before it drives me nuts.” 

“More coffee?” 

Bruce peered down into his cup. “Sure. I need something to keep me awake.” 

Steve filled Bruce’s cup back up and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I brought Loki some pecan pie. I figured he won’t have tried it before.” 

“You guys make a cute pair,” Bruce replied, smiling. “Tony nearly took Loki’s head off his shoulders yesterday when he found out you guys were…you know. Together. I think he thought Loki had hypnotised you or something.” 

“Really? Loki didn’t say anything about that.”

“Well, he did look pretty sorrowful when he realised why you really wanted to keep him a secret. There was a lot of talk of ‘injustice’ and ‘villainy’, anyway. I think he felt guilty.” 

“I still can’t believe he thought I was ashamed of him.” 

“No, you were ashamed of yourself. But times have changed, you know. Most people don’t care if you’re gay or straight nowadays, as long as you pay your taxes.” 

Steve smiled at the joke, shaking his head. “I can’t get used to that, either. Being ‘gay’ and not ‘queer’. I hate the word queer, but I can’t seem to stop using it.” 

Bruce shrugged, taking another long gulp of his coffee. “Give it time. Anyway, go and see Loki and leave me to my caffeine.”

“Alright. Hey, Bruce?” 

“Hm?”

“Thanks.” 

“Don’t worry about it. You know where I am if you want to talk to someone.” 

“Sure. See you later.”

 

*

 

As it turned out, Loki liked his pecan pie so much he ate half of Steve’s as well as they sat companiably on the sofa in Steve’s room. “One thing I will grant you, Steve,” He said, cutting another piece with the side of his fork, “Is that Midgard has far better cooks than Asgard. On Asgard they believe that everything must be boiled or roasted into submission before being served.” 

Steve laughed and pushed the box closer to Loki. “Then finish it, you need some extra calories. Maybe I’ll get some pumpkin pie next time. You ever tried it?”

“No, but Thor speaks of it with great affection. He also recommended…waffles?”

“Hm…I like waffles, but pie is nicer.” 

Loki chewed his pie, looking thoughtful. And then: “May I be honest?” 

“Sure.”

“You must never tell Thor what I’m about to tell you.” 

“No, of course not. What is it?” 

Loki looked from left to right, as if worried someone might overhear him. “I like being on Midgard,” He said, quick and bitten off. “And I like working with you Avengers.” He toyed with his fork, flicking it between his fingers. “Midgardians are a lot more forgiving than the Aesir. Asgardian justice rarely gives anyone a second chance. In fact, if you had refused to have me at the tower, I would have been sent to the dungeons.” 

“Oh. Wow, that’s harsh. How long for?” 

Loki looked at him quizzically. “Forever, Steve. Granted, I would have at least had the company of Fenrir and Jormungand, but a lifetime of imprisonment would not suit someone like me. It would drive me to insanity.” 

Even back in Steve’s day they let you out of prison eventually. It seemed a horrible idea to take someone as smart as Loki and just lock them up in a box for the rest of their life. “Can I be frank, Loki?” Steve didn’t wait for a reply before carrying on. “Asgard sounds horrible. I’m not surprised you like it better here.” 

“Well, the company and the food are much better.” Loki smiled at him. It was a smile full of warmth and fondness, and it made Steve feel…good about himself. And he didn’t, usually. It was kind of strange, but not at all unwelcome. “Though unfortunately I must leave you, _ástin mín._ I am telling the children a story about a stray cat this morning.” 

Steve smiled. “Okay. Say, how about we go somewhere later? Do you like art galleries?” 

“I do, but I hardly think you should be seen anywhere in public with me. I am supposed to be scrubbing the floors of the tower for my penance, not enjoying myself.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I didn’t think about that.” 

“Worry not, I will not weep if you go to your gallery with someone else if you keep me company later on.” 

Loki crammed the last piece of pie into his mouth, gave a distorted smile around it, and disappeared. Steve sighed and ate the stray pecans in the bottom of the box as he considered the situation. He’d grappled with the idea of being honest about being queer. Being gay. But it seemed a bit pointless if he couldn’t admit who he was with, and he had a good idea of how well it would go telling the American public at large that he was sleeping with the man responsible for the wholesale destruction of New York City. 

It was no secret that Loki was working for the Avengers now, but because of the classified nature of most of their operations none of the public knew about any of the good stuff Loki had done recently – which didn’t seem fair, really. Loki had certainly brought out his A-Game when Doctor Doom enchanted every statue in the city to go after Johnny Storm, and he’d had the good grace to magic them back to where they belonged after he’d deactivated them as well. And there was the fact that without Loki, Steve knew he would have bled to death in the street from that bullet wound. Add to that all the times Loki had levitated him and Natasha and Bruce before they hit the ground after a fall, and the time he’d thrown up a shield in front of Tony right before he got crushed by a malfunctioning crane and surely by now Loki had saved as many lives as he’d taken? Didn’t that earn him a little bit of trust? 

An idea forming in his mind, Steve went to his computer. It was habit to check his emails before he did anything else, and at the top of the list was one from Tony. It was titled ‘The History of Your People’ in typical flamboyant Tony fashion, and it seemed to be a list of articles. Steve clicked the first one. It was about gay marriage around the world. Steve hadn’t even realised there was such a thing as gay people getting married, but it was nice to know he could if he ever wanted to. The second one was about homophobia – and it was a novel thing indeed to know that it was illegal to discriminate against gay people nowadays. Steve carried on clicking. Some of it was heartening, like reading about the Stonewall Riots and the rise of the gay rights movement. Some of it was a lot less fun to read. The article about gay kids being bullied and banned from going to school dances made him particularly angry. 

Resolute, he clicked off his emails and started on what he’d been intending to do in the first place. 

The idea slowly evolved into a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found 'ástin mín' in a list of old Norse endearments online. It's equivalent to 'my dear' or 'my darling', in case anyone was wondering!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with this so far, and thank you for all the kudos and the comments! I hope by the time I post the last chapter and epilogue all of your questions will be answered, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

“So, Captain Rogers, you’re on the show tonight to talk about your new campaign against bullying?”

“No, actually.” Naomi, the presenter, who Steve had only met twenty minutes ago, smiled as if Steve had told a very funny joke. He kept a straight face. “I do want to talk about bullying, but I have something I’d like to say first.”

“Oh? What is it? An Avengers secret, maybe?”

Steve prepared himself. He was about to admit his most shameful secret on live television in front of a studio audience of strangers, and it scared him less than he’d thought it would. Probably because it hadn’t sunk in yet that he was actually there and actually doing it. “No,” He said. “Well, not exactly. What I want to say is…I’m gay.”

The audience started to chatter. Naomi stared at him. “Uh…you, uh, you’re gay? I mean, Captain America is gay?”

“Well ma’am, I’m Captain America and I’m gay, so yes.” There was a brief pause as Naomi composed herself. The audience buzzed and chattered, and Steve steeled himself for more questions.

“That’s a very brave thing to come out and say, Captain Rogers.”

“No, it isn’t.” He felt his Starkphone buzz in his pocket, but ignored it.

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

Steve took a deep breath. “I grew up in a time when being gay was considered disgusting. If people found out you were gay in my day you’d get beaten or worse. No-one would give you a job. No-one would rent you a room. I spent my life living underground. I had a boyfriend for a lot of years, but I could only see him when my roommate went out dancing or to a bar. I lived with the constant threat of people finding out. So to me, coming out and saying I’m gay right now isn’t brave, because admitting what I am isn’t going to get me murdered. Or at least, if it does, the person who did it would end up behind bars, not getting their back patted and drinks bought for them.”

Steve took a quick look out at the audience. None of them were chattering now. They were all sitting forward on their seats, just like Naomi, waiting for him to carry on. “It was nice, to wake up and find out I have rights now. But at the same time, I know in a lot of places there’s still a lot of hatred. There are a lot of gay kids out there being bullied right now. That’s why I wanted to come on the show today and speak. To show these kids that being gay doesn’t make you bad, or shameful, or weak or pathetic. The lives I’ve saved over the years aren’t cancelled out because I like men. I have a boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still a hero.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Naomi squeaked. Steve had been hoping she would ask.

“I do. I’m currently in a relationship with Loki Laufeyson.”

The audience burst into life again, fizzing and chattering like a disturbed beehive. Naomi gaped at him from behind her desk. “ _Loki_?” She repeated, in disgust.

“Loki’s been working with the Avengers for a long time now as punishment for what he did, and in that time he’s actually saved my life quite a few times.” Steve pulled a pen drive out of his pocket and clicked it until a photo of his mangled chest burst onto the wall of the set. Director Fury could haul him over the coals later for showing classified photos, but he had to do this, had to show them that Loki had changed, that he was capable of being a hero. “That’s a photo of my chest after Loki took a bullet out of it,” He said conversationally as everyone stared at the horrible puckered scab. “If he hadn’t, I would have bled to death. And this next picture,” He clicked again, “Is of Loki defending Johnny Storm from Doctor Doom. He’s actually done an awful lot of good since he joined us, but none of it has been publicised because his operations are classified.” Steve clicked through some more photos, finishing with one of Loki with the kids in the library. “He’s making every effort to make up for his crimes, and I think he deserves a second chance. He knows what he did was wrong and he’s doing his level best to put it right, and I don’t think you can ask for any more than that.”

He waited for another question, but Naomi seemed too blindsided to string a coherent thought together. He felt a little bit mean for misleading her – and everyone else at the station – but he’d had to choose between lying or never getting on the air in the end. His Starkphone buzzed in his pocket again, and he sneaked a glance at the screen. He had missed calls from all the other Avengers, from Fury, from all the registered numbers he had for SHIELD, and even numbers he didn’t recognise. “Did you want to ask me anything?” He prompted, putting the phone away again.

“Uh…well…ah…”

“Well, if there are no more questions I’ll head off. It was lovely to meet you, ma’am. I know you have other guests on the show tonight, so I won’t carry on talking.”

Steve stood up from his chair and walked out of the studio. It was so quiet he could hear the click of his shoes on the lino. Backstage, he wondered who he should call first. Probably Director Fury, he owed him an apology. Several apologies, in fact. But he’d done what he’d set out to do. Operation complete.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” Steve looked up from the screen of his Starkphone in surprise. An earnest-looking man in a suit was standing in front of him.

“Um…why?”

“My son’s gay. They tease him at school, call him a fairy and a fag and things like that. It’s gonna make him feel a whole lot better knowing that someone as famous as Captain America is gay as well.” The earnest man stuck out his hand and Steve shook it, nonplussed. He hadn’t expected such an immediate reaction, but at least it was a positive one. “I’ve arranged a car to take you back to Avengers Tower before the story really breaks.”

“Oh, thanks. I was going to walk, it’s only a few blocks, but a car would be nice.”

In the end it wasn’t actually a car – it was a limo that even Tony would be proud to be seen in, thirty feet long and glistening black. It only added to the extreme sense of surreality Steve was feeling. It was as if he were walking through a dream, as if he hadn’t just done something momentous and game-changing. His Starkphone rang as the limo pulled away and he answered it absently. “Hello?”

“Steve!” It was Natasha. “My God, I think Fury’s having a coronary right here in the tower, where are you?”

“On my way back. They got me a limo.”

“He’s on his way, Director,” Natasha said, clearly trying to placate Fury at the other end of the line.

“Tell that scheming son of a bitch to hurry up, Agent!”

“He wants you here ASAP,” Natasha translated.

“I heard him, Nat. It’s alright, I was expecting him to be angry.”

“Angry doesn’t even come close, Steve. I haven’t seen him this furious since the mess in Buenos Aires. Good luck!”

 

*

 

As it turned out, Fury was more annoyed about the classified photos he’d technically stolen than the whole business of coming out on TV to everyone in America: “I don’t give a shit who you’re sleeping with, Rogers, but a bit of warning might have been nice! I’m gonna have to double the people checking your fanmail for bombs and anthrax now, did you even think about that?”

He hadn’t, actually. He hadn’t thought very far ahead at all. As Fury ranted at him about unauthorised action and illegal seizure of government property, it finally hit him that he’d told the entire world that he was gay. Panic seized his stomach for a brief moment, and then he remembered the girl in the diner. The studio boss. They’d all been totally okay with it. With him. And more than that, it felt…liberating, that he didn’t have to hide it any longer. Like breathing with new lungs.

“I’m real sorry, Director,” He said, when Fury eventually took a breath. “I did what I had to do, and I’ll take whatever punishment you give me.”

“I ain’t gonna punish you, Rogers. But you are gonna clean up this mess.”

“I’m not taking any of it back,” Steve replied, defiant. Fury just snorted at him.

“Did I say anything about taking it back? No I did not. The story’s on the internet now, there’s no going back.”

“Then what?”

“My phone’s been ringing off the hook since that show started, Rogers. People want answers, they want information. And you’re gonna give it to them. Pick a journalist or pick a reporter, and give them a proper interview, not a surprise information dump.”

Steve had been expecting some jail time or at least a demotion, so being told that the only consequence for sharing national secrets and going under the radar to give an unauthorised interview was to do another interview seemed suspiciously lenient. “Is that all, sir?”

“That’s all, Rogers.”

Fury left, and the others clamoured around Steve, fizzing over with excitement.

“Cap, that was insane! I thought Fury was gonna die, he was clenching his jaw so hard!” Tony did an impression of the Director scowling, but spoiled it by laughing.

“I thought I was going to jail for sure,” Steve said, still a little stunned.

“Nah, Fury’s niece is totally a lesbian, he’s all for gay rights. Oops, maybe that was classified. You didn’t hear it from me, okay, and I totally didn’t hear it by hacking into Fury’s personal file.”

“You hacked into Fury’s personal file?” Clint sounded equal parts horrified and impressed. To Steve’s left Thor was demanding to know why Midgardians were so concerned about what others did in bed, Bruce was trying to explain religion to him, and it was all just a bit too much. Garnering up the courage to confess had drained him completely, and it was actually quite a relief when a familiar hand grabbed his wrist and he found himself in his bedroom alone with Loki.

“Thanks,” He said softly, flopping down on the sofa, boneless.

“You looked somewhat overwhelmed, _ástin mín_.”

“Yeah.” Loki sat down beside him and Steve leaned across to rest his head on the god’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“For not telling you what I was planning.”

Loki slid an arm around his back and pulled him in close. “What you did was good and just, and you were kinder about me than I deserve. I saved your life for entirely selfish reasons, you know. I have always found you attractive, even when we were still enemies.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. I have told you, Steve, blue eyes are my downfall.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, and then Steve groaned. “I told _everybody_ , didn’t I?”

Loki made a soft noise of amusement. “You did, yes. But America deserves to know what they did to their greatest hero in his youth. What they denied you. You did the right thing.”

And that was what he’d needed, he realised. To be told he’d done the right thing. Made the right decision. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his head against Loki’s neck. “A lot of people won’t like it,” He said.

“Then let them stew upon it. Their opinion is of no consequence. For a time I am sure you will be pestered by people from newspapers and such, but they will grow bored, and I am here. They cannot ask you questions if you are suddenly no longer in the building.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. _For everything_.

 

*

 

The strangest thing about having come out on national television turned out to be the fanmail. The nasty letters in particular were an education.

“Look at this one, Cap,” Tony said days after the interview, holding up a letter written on greyish, thin paper. “Apparently ‘You should be ashamed of yourself for being a fag slut.’.”

Steve laughed. It wasn’t the funniest one they’d found so far, but they were all in a pretty silly mood from reading the more ridiculous letters out loud. In the end they’d poured the bag out onto the floor and now they were all sitting around the pile of letters, sifting through to find the funniest and/or craziest ones. It was ironic, Steve thought, that the hatemail people had sent with the intention of upsetting him was keeping them all so entertained.

“Oh my,” Loki said, holding up another letter. “This one is a true work of brilliance. Please, you must hear this.” He cleared his throat and struck a pose. “‘I am sick of you gays trying to take over this country, go back to your own and leave America alone!’”

Everyone burst out laughing again. Clint even snorted a little in his enthusiasm. Steve laughed until he was almost in tears, and shook his head. “We’re gonna have to stop, guys, I’m dying here. Whose idea was this again?”

“Tony’s,” Bruce said immediately.

“Come on Cap, it was an awesome idea. You get the best mail.”

That was true – the hatemail was funny more than offensive, and the nice letters made Steve feel warm and proud. A lot of people seemed to be curious about what it had been like for him in the forties, but he was still weighing up his options for interviews – Fury had insisted he pick someone to talk to soon, to alleviate some of the nagging questions SHIELD were having to field about him, but he didn’t like the idea of having someone put words in his mouth.

To stave off making a decision, when the letters were all back in their sack he invited Loki out for dinner. The god looked doubtful. “People will hound you, Steve. Are you sure you want to?”

“Tony recommended this place, so it should be okay. Apparently loads of famous people eat there, so they just pretend they have no idea who you are.”

“Well, if you are certain…it would be nice, to go on a ‘date’ with you at last.”

Tony insisted on sending them to the restaurant in a limo. He said it was to give a good first impression, but Steve was pretty sure it was to prove he had a better limo in his corral than the TV station did. Either way it was nice to speed through town with Loki sitting next to him on the expansive chair inside. It was bigger than Steve’s sofa, which was saying something.

“One of the little girls asked me what ‘gay’ was today,” Loki said idly, straightening his cuffs. He’d dressed up for the occasion in a form-fitting green shirt and tight jeans. Steve had gone for suit pants and a shirt with no jacket even though Tony had told them to wear whatever they liked. Apparently there was no dress code for rich people, but Steve didn’t want to feel out of place.

“What did you say to her?”

“I told her that ‘gay’ means a boy loving a boy, or a girl loving a girl. Nothing complicated or hard to understand. How was your meeting this morning?”

“Fury got mad with me again. Apparently that picture of my chest with the bullet hole is all over the internet now and I’m in trouble for releasing government property to the public. I mean, it’s my chest in the picture, you’d think I was allowed to show whoever I wanted, right?”

“Captain America, Shirtless Avenger. To judge from your hundreds of fan pages on the internet, it would be well-received.”

Steve felt suddenly guilty. “You don’t…mind, do you? All those pages and everything?”

“Not at all. I am a member of the three largest ones, and I also joined the ‘Steve Rogers and Loki Appreciation Society’. Apparently we have great ‘presence’ together. I believe that means they like the contrast of fair and dark hair, but I cannot be sure. Of course there are also groups that petition for me to hurry up and go back to Asgard or drop dead, but they are not nearly so interesting.”

Steve shook his head in resignation. He was becoming immune to the stupid things people online said, but it was a still a bit of a revelation to find out that Loki knew his way around a computer. “How is it that Thor still can’t work the toaster but you’re all over the internet?”

“Everyone has their own set of skills. Thor is good at electrocuting things and shouting. Oh, and getting drunk and chasing after unsuitable women. I am good with magic – and by extension your technology. I am also exceptionally skilled at giving pleasure – though of course you know that first-hand.” Loki was in full-on flirt mode, lips split over a wicked grin, and Steve grinned back. It hadn’t been very long, but he already knew that he and Loki had something special. Like magnetism, drawing them in close to each other.

As Tony had promised, the restaurant was quiet and dignified and not one person gave any sign that they recognised either of them. They were seated with great ceremony and handed menus. After a cursory glance at the available options, Loki chose steak.

“How would you like that cooked, sir?”

“As little as possible,” The god replied.

“And you, sir?”

“Um, I’ll have the kangaroo burger, I think. I’ve never tried kangaroo meat before.”

“You won’t be disappointed, sir, it’s spectacular.”

The waitress ghosted away on silent feet. “Director Fury asked Thor if I would be willing to be interviewed on a television show to improve my ‘public image’,” Loki said, propping his chin up on one hand.

“I bet that would be something, if you did. Would you?”

“Perhaps. Though I pity any Midgardian who thinks they can entice me to spill secrets I wish to keep,” Loki replied. “Oh, and I was asked to remind you that Fury is impatient that you hold court for your adoring fans. Have you chosen a reporter?”

“No. I don’t want anyone to misquote me, you know?”

Loki’s eyes glittered in the candlelight. “You could start a blog,” He suggested. “People would be interested. And that way you could tell them everything in your own words.”

“Maybe,” Steve said, doubtful.

“I will make you a deal, then. I will appear on the television if you will start a blog.”

“Okay? I guess it can’t hurt.”

Loki tilted his head to one side, thoughtful “The real problem now is that I shall have to think of something interesting to tell the television people. And I shall have to find something to wear. Hm, perhaps I should grow a beard for the occasion to seem wiser and more august.”

They chatted about the appropriate attire for a TV interview until the food arrived, and then fell into companiable silence as they ate. For such a skinny guy Loki could sure put his food away, but Steve could hardly talk – he didn’t have such a tiny appetite himself, since the serum. They had dessert – pecan pie for Loki and an enormous gooey brownie for Steve – and the limo picked them up exactly where it had dropped them off, after Steve threw his SHIELD credit card down to pay the bill.

Back at the tower Clint was snoring uproariously on the sofa as they passed the living room, but everyone else seemed to be in bed or out. Without question they both went to Steve’s room – since their first night sleeping together Loki had pretty much moved in with him. Some days Steve still found it hard to believe that he was sharing his bed with a man and the world wasn’t ending because of it, but mostly he was just happy.

“So, when should I start this blog?” He asked as they crossed the threshold. “Right now?”

“Later,” Loki replied, sneaking a hand around Steve’s wrist and tugging him toward the bed. “Right now, you have more important concerns.”

The implication was clear. Steve felt a thrill of desire flutter in his stomach. “You wanna…?”

“Make wild, passionate love to you?” Loki sank down onto his back on the bed, smirking. “Yes, I want that very much.” He beckoned with one long forefinger and Steve climbed carefully on top, on his hands and knees over Loki’s body. They kissed, softly at first, but Loki was clearly serious about the ‘wild, passionate’ part and soon added his teeth to the mix, nipping at Steve’s lower lip as he dragged him bodily down on top of himself. “I have great need, Steve. Do not make me wait. Undress me.”

If Loki were really in such a hurry he could have easily conjured their clothes away, but Steve didn’t comment. He started to unbutton Loki’s shirt, the fabric silky and slippery under his fingers, and kissed his way down, down, until the last button was undone and Loki’s smooth chest was completely on show. “You’re gorgeous,” He said softly.

“Not so gorgeous as you, _ástin mín_ ,” Loki replied breathlessly. “You are a sculpture, a work of art.”

“I’m just Steve from Brooklyn,” Steve said. He still couldn’t accept compliments with grace. He never felt like he deserved them. He let his hands trail over the front of Loki’s jeans before undoing the popper, pulling down the zip, and dragging them down over Loki’s hips. He waited for a second, admiring the view before leaning in and brushing his teeth in a soft bite over the god’s hipbone. The reaction was immediate; Loki gasped and squirmed, and Steve did it again.

“Tease.”

“I’m not teasing, I’m exploring.”

“You are not exploring the right place.”

Steve laughed softly. Loki was always impatient. “I’m good here, for now.” He kissed, licked, and then bit again. Loki’s gasp this time was coloured with a moan, and he arched his body up in approval.

“Do you wish for me to beg?”

“You can if you want to, I guess. I don’t mind.”

“Then truly, you are nothing more than a tease. What a cruel man I have given my heart to.”

“Not cruel,” Steve corrected. “Thorough.”

Loki arched his hips up again. “Then thoroughly fuck me, Steve,” He said. “Bend my body in two and fuck me until all I can do is scream for you.”

For a man who’d always made love in near silence, Steve was finding it a nice change to be able to listen to Loki talk now. The god had a filthy mind and an equally filthy tongue; he made up fantasies, gasped encouragements, begged for what he wanted, and it was…

It was hot.

Relenting, Steve hooked his fingers into the waistband of Loki’s jeans and dragged them all the way off. Loki never wore underwear, seemed to find the idea laughable, in fact, and Steve had no complaints. But for his unbuttoned shirt Loki was entirely naked now, and he was beautiful.

“If you keep staring, I shall blush.”

“I don’t think you even know how,” Steve returned.

Loki laughed, closing his eyes. “Given time I am sure I could remember. But right now I am only interested in one thing.” He drew his knees up, spreading his legs in invitation, and Steve couldn’t get out of his own clothes quickly enough. Shirt over his head, on the floor. Pants and underwear, kicked over to join the shirt. And then the intoxicating touch of skin on skin, his waist held in the cradle of Loki’s thighs as they kissed again, fast and hot.

“You will drive me mad with want, Steve. I need you, so desperately. I need to feel you inside me, I need your cock.” In answer, Steve fumbled for the bedside table where he kept his lube. “Slick yourself and then take me,” Loki demanded.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Steve panted back.

“I can take the pain, and I am too impatient to wait. I want you. And I want you now.”

Steve gave in. Squeezing a generous amount of lube out onto his hand, he coated his cock as thickly as he could, tipped Loki’s body up, and plunged inside. An animalistic yell tore out of the god’s throat and he thrashed his head back, eyes clenched shut. “Fast, Steve,” He begged. “Fast and hard. Fuck me. Please.”

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

“Stop talking and fuck me!” Loki hissed back. Steve obeyed. He tried to start slow but Loki was determined to set a faster pace, bucking his hips up insistently until Steve started to match him, and soon all reasonable thought disappeared from his mind. There was just Loki, Loki’s body, Loki’s voice screaming for more, harder, faster, deeper.

“I am close, Steve, so close, so close!” Opening his eyes for a brief second, Steve could see that Loki’s lip was bleeding where he’d bitten it, he could see how savagely his hands were twisted in the blanket, see every tense line of his body. “Steve, Steve!” It was a plea, a prayer, and Steve did his best to answer it, driving his hips forward as hard as he could. Within seconds Loki was undone, a strangled moan slipping out from between his lips as he came messily all over his own chest. The sight of him was too much; Steve started to move again, fucking Loki through his orgasm until he came himself, groaning low in his throat.

He pulled out slowly and collapsed next to Loki, chest heaving. “Love you,” He said.

“And I love you. How could I not, when you always give me exactly what I need?”

Steve smiled lazily. “Shower?”

“In a moment. When my legs remember what they are for.”

Loki fell asleep within the minute, though, so Steve cleaned them both up as best as he could with the wet-wipes that he wisely kept beside the lube, then curled up beside Loki to sleep.


	5. Chapter Five

“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” Loki sounded thoroughly bored as a young woman with extraordinarily long legs fussed at his hair. 

“Hey, I promised to start a blog,” Steve returned. “You made a deal, hold up your end.” 

“I had not realised appearing on television required a makeover.” 

“Nature of the beast, Loki. Stop whining.” Steve would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t find it funny. Fury had signed Loki up to one of the biggest talk shows around to make his TV debut, and the god was clearly regretting agreeing to it now. Steve looked on in amusement as the woman ‘minding’ Loki strode up full of purpose. 

“He’s on in two minutes, we need to wrap this up!”

“Oh, thank the Norns,” Loki drawled. “If I become any more bored I may die.” He made a good show of not caring, but Steve could tell he was a little bit nervous. His eyes kept flickering around the room as if scanning for threats, so he was obviously anxious. Not that he seemed anything but completely confident when he eventually walked out onto the set. It was a much more professional set than the one Steve had shared his revelations on – more lighting, bigger audience, more cameras. And of course, a much more confident host. 

“Mister Laufeyson, good evening!” Monica Marcy was made up to the nines, heavy on the eyeliner and mascara, but backstage she’d seemed friendly enough. She’d promised not to ask about their sex life, at least. 

“Good evening, Miss Marcy. How are you this evening?”

“I’m excellent! Burning with questions, though. Why don’t you take a seat?” 

There were two sofas angled toward each other, blue on the right and green on the left. Loki sat down on the blue one, crossing his legs and assuming an elegant pose. Presumably, as a prince of Asgard, he’d been taught deportment from a young age. “Now, we were all very surprised when you accepted our invitation to come on here and be interviewed. Why was that? I thought you Asgardian types liked to stay out of the spotlight.” 

“I would not have accepted, were it not for Captain Rogers. He seemed to think that the American people might be interested to know more about me.” 

Monica Marcy beamed at him. “As I said, I’m burning with questions. I mean, most of all I just want to confirm that you and Captain America are definitely hooking up, yes?” 

“Hooking…?” Loki’s expression was one of bewilderment. Steve was pretty sure he was faking. “I am sorry, my grasp of Midgardian slang is not excellent. Captain Rogers and I are lovers, is that what you meant?” Loki was an expert at this, Steve realised. He’d grown up a prince, learned courtship and diplomacy from his crib, and he was already playing the crowd like a fine instrument. 

“Lovers, what a romantic way to put it,” Monica replied. “So you’re a hero nowadays, huh?” 

“I would not describe myself as a hero any more than I ever believed myself to be a villain,” Loki replied. “I was not in my right mind when I attempted to invade New York, and now that I am returned to my senses I am merely attempting to make right the wrongs I committed.” 

“Oh, the old insanity defence?” Monica Marcy sounded doubtful. Loki smiled at her.

“Unlike Midgardians, I can perhaps give you a taste of the state of my mind at that time.” 

Steve had the sudden, ugly sensation of falling hard and fast as distant stars screamed by, burning his eyes. He was assailed on all sides by loneliness, shame and fear, overcome with sheer desperation. 

And then just as suddenly he was peeking out from backstage again. The audience started to chatter amongst themselves, and Monica Marcy slumped in her seat. “Wow. That was certainly unexpected.” And then like the professional she was, she drew herself up again. “For those viewers at home, we here in the studio have just been shown a vision of terrible loneliness and madness.” 

“Quite. I have my brother to thank for bringing me back from the abyss. He did not give up on me, and I am grateful.” Tears (probably also fake) filled Loki’s eyes. Steve watched one of the cameramen zoom in on them. 

“So let’s talk about your work with the Avengers. I understand that a lot of it is classified, but can you give us an idea of what you’ve been doing for the city while you’ve been here?” 

“I have done whatever SHIELD has asked me to do. I have a unique set of skills here on Midgard, as a magic user. I can teleport, shape-shift, conjure and scry. I have discovered many missing persons using my magic, for example.” 

“And according to Captain Rogers you’re a healer as well, hm?” 

“I do have some skill in the healing arts. When Steve…ah, when Captain Rogers was shot I managed to stop him bleeding to death, though it drained me quite considerably. I was so worried that I rather overstepped my limits.” Loki smiled softly. “But I did not mind the pain. He is surely a man worth saving.” 

“Well, I don’t think anyone can disagree with that,” Monica Marcy replied. “So we’ve established that you’re serving the city in recompense for everything that happened last year, and we all know you’ve bagged one of America’s most eligible bachelors, so how about you tell us more about yourself?” 

“Well…” Loki looked hesitant. He stared out at the cameras and then fiddled with his tie. He’d insisted on wearing a suit even under the hot studio lights. It suited him – which was probably why he’d worn it in the first place. “Well, I am a prince of Asgard, and…ah, Thor is my older brother. Well, actually he is my adopted brother, but we were raised together from infancy, and we are very close.” 

“Oh, I never realised you were adopted. I wondered, though, have you always been gay, or was it a bit of a revelation for you to fall in love with another man?” 

Loki looked politely embarrassed. “I…must confess, on Asgard we do not have the same view of sensuality as you do here on Midgard. I cannot think of a single Asgardian who has not had relations with members of both sexes, so for me it is rather a non-issue. Falling in love is always a revelation, but not because of the gender of the people involved.” 

“Oh, so Captain Rogers isn’t your first love?” 

There was that look of polite embarrassment again, as if Monica Marcy should really know better but Loki was too nice to point it out. “Well, I am hundreds of years old. I have had many lovers in my time, and fathered many children too.” 

“Oh really? How many? Oh my, does Thor have any kids that we don’t know about?” 

“Thor has yet to taste the joys of fatherhood. And I have six children. Five sons and a daughter.” 

“Six kids! Come on, now you have to tell us all about them!”

“Well…I should preface any description by reminding you that I am a shapeshifter. Ah, what I mean to say is that not all of my children are ‘human-shaped’.” 

Monica Marcy looked nonplussed. In response, Loki turned himself into a stag. The stag cantered forwards, leapt, and became a panther mid-air, landing on the steps leading up to the audience seats. It stalked up them, flickering into a black bear on the way before becoming a bird with huge wings that swept down the studio and landed on the sofa as Loki again. Steve had to admire the drama and excitement of it – Loki was a natural performer. 

“With that understood, I will tell you; one of my sons is a wolf, one is a serpent, and one is a horse. My other three children are human. Or…they were. My daughter Hela rules in Niflheim now, but my twins…Nari is dead, and his brother Vali has been missing for many years.” 

“What happened to them?” 

Loki stared at the floor for a few seconds. “I…” He stopped. “It was a great tragedy.” He stopped again. “I am sorry. I cannot speak of it. Any parent who has lost a child will understand me when I say that it is a wound that never heals. Even though I lost them long ago, I weep to remember.” He cleared his throat. “Please…may we speak about something else?” 

“Of course, I’m sorry. Perhaps you could tell us about your daughter? Did you say she was a ruler? As in, a queen?” 

“Hela is Queen of Niflheim, another of the nine realms. I am very proud of her, though of course, I have no favourites. All of my children are dear to my heart, though now I am here on Midgard they are far away from me. One day, though, I hope to see all of them again, and visit my son’s grave as well.” 

“You must miss them.” 

“I do.” 

“And your kids, are they all magicians too?” 

“No. Hela has inherited some of my magical talent, but the most potent magic is learned, not inherited.” 

“So your magic must be pretty strong, huh?”

“Yes,” Loki admitted, without a hint of bashfulness. “I was taught by my mother, Queen Frigga, and I have dedicated many, many years to the mastery of my craft. As I have said, I can find the missing with magic, heal the injured, and any number of smaller things. I could turn you purple, or conjure up wine, or show you visions from inside my mind.” 

“Like before.” 

“Indeed. Though it is difficult to show a vision to so many at once.” 

“So is this your plan for the future? To carry on working with the Avengers, using your magic to help people?” 

“Of course. I am still bound to the Avengers to carry out my sentence, but even if I were not…well. I have a very good reason to stay with them.” Loki’s smile lit up with joy. Steve hoped that that, at least, wasn’t faked. “But I am very fond of all of my new team-mates. Tony Stark has been teaching me how to use the Midgardian internet, and I find it terribly interesting. Actually, Captain Rogers is going to begin a blog soon, so that he can answer questions about his life before he became Captain America.” 

Steve had the feeling that Loki was making sure he didn’t back out of his side of the deal, though he’d already written down what he wanted to say in his first ever post, so really Loki had nothing to worry about. It was going to be all about William. He was going to tell the entire world that he hadn’t been able to kiss the love of his life goodbye. He was going to make people remember William Watson as the sweet, kind person he was and not as a pathetic queer. He was going to set things right as best as he could, seventy years after the fact. 

“Captain Rogers is starting a blog?” Monica Marcy sat up straighter. 

“He wanted to answer the many questions people have about his past in his own words, and he said a blog seemed the best way to do that.” 

“Well, I’m sure a lot of our viewers will be interested to hear that. Captain Rogers has quite the fan following, I’m not sure if you’re aware?” 

“I am aware. I have even taken the liberty of joining some of the larger fansites in order to keep abreast of the speculation and gossip. For those who were discussing the subject this morning on GoCapGo, I am not the ‘girl’ in our relationship – there is no ‘girl’, that is rather the point of sleeping with another man.” 

Monica Marcy giggled. “Good point. Unfortunately we’re running out of time, so here’s my last question. What’s Captain Rogers like, behind closed doors?” 

“He is everything a man should be,” Loki replied, without hesitation. “He is strong, but compassionate. And he is kind. Far kinder than I deserve. More than anything, he is brave; the bullet that I plucked from his chest was meant for someone else, but he threw himself in the way of it without a second thought for his own life. I am not sure how such things are measured on Midgard, but by my standards, by Asgardian standards, a man who is willing give up his own life so that another may be saved is a man to be respected and revered.” 

Loki looked up. Not at the cameras, not at the audience, not even at Monica Marcy. At Steve. His mouth was set, not a hint of flirtation or amusement. He meant it, Steve realised. Every word. 

“Well, thank you for coming on the show and giving us a bit of an insight, Mister Laufeyson. We’re going to take a break now, see you soon!” The cameras stopped rolling, and Steve finally dared go out onto the set. He walked straight over to Loki and wrapped his arms around him. 

“I love you.” 

“And I love you too. But you must let go, before a hundred blurry photos of us embracing go onto the internet.” 

“Let ‘em,” Steve replied. Loki snaked an arm up his back, pressing him in close, and turned his head to press his lips against Steve’s ear. 

“I did not tell a single lie with my lips,” He murmured. “Though I confess I told many with my face.” 

“I knew it,” Steve replied, pulling away finally. Loki looked unbelievably pleased with himself, and even more pleased when Monica Marcy walked over to them. 

“So, can I convince you guys to come on as a pair next time?” 

“I have no objection,” Loki replied. “But SHIELD would have to give approval, you know how these things work. Thank you, by the way, for refraining from asking any intimate questions.” 

“No problem. Ad break’s over soon though, so you guys need to scoot. Unless you’d let us catch a shot of you holding hands, or…?” 

“I don’t think Director Fury would approve,” Steve said. “Come on, we’d better go.” 

There was yet another fancy limo waiting for them outside the studio. This time there was a bottle of champagne in the rack by the door, and glasses too. “You want any?” Steve asked, indicating it with a tilt of his head. 

“No, not really. I tend not to drink unless there is some occasion for it – I have watched Thor make a spectacle of himself when drunk so many times, it has rather lost its appeal.” Loki sighed, and put a hand on Steve’s thigh. “Steve, I must tell you something.” 

“What? What is it?” 

“Nari...he died because of me.” Loki looked up, his eyes beseeching. “I must tell you this, though it kills me to say it aloud. The Allfather sentenced Nari to death for my misdeeds.” 

“What?” 

Steve meant it as an exclamation of disbelief, but Loki clearly took it differently. 

“I ruined a peace conference,” He said, eyes filling up with tears. “I insulted a great many dignitaries, ruined years of negotiations. And my punishment was to watch as Vali was turned into a wolf and savaged Nari to death.” 

“But…but that’s…Loki, that’s barbaric! That’s awful!”

“You cannot know the pain. Chained there, unable to do anything as…” Loki sobbed. “He screamed for me to save him. He was so afraid.” 

“Didn’t anyone say anything? Do anything?”

“The Allfather had spoken and none dared defy him. Asgard of old was a harsh, unforgiving place, even more so than it is today. Thor argued against my sentence, but Odin ignored him and so he stood there with the others and watched. As was his duty.” Loki buried his face in his hands. “I do not speak of it lightly. I cannot remember it without a piece of my soul dying away. But now you know. You have seen the very last inch of me.” 

Steve finally understood. Loki was giving up his darkest secret to him, and that was more of a confession than any ‘I love you’ could ever be. “You don’t have to go back to Asgard.” He said. “Ever.” 

“I do not wish to.” 

“Then stay here on Midgard. With me.” Steve laid his arm around Loki’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. “I love you.” 

“And I you,” Loki replied, looking up. Unlike Steve, he looked elegant in tears, not a hair out of place. “I would do anything for you, Steve. Kill for you, die for you. Anything.” 

Steve pulled the god up against his chest, squeezing until Loki gave a little gasp of discomfort. “Me too,” He realised. “Anything at all.”


	6. Epilogue

Months later Steve was lying on his bed, hands on the keyboard of his laptop as he tried to come up with something new for his blog. People had really shown an interest since the get-go – he’d made his first post about his ill-fated relationship with William, and his second about Bucky – because so many people were horrified at how his best friend had treated his boyfriend. Steve figured it was hard for people to understand just what it had meant, to be out and gay in the forties – the harrassment. The violence. He explained as best he could that Bucky had been trying to protect him from all that, and the outpouring of sympathy and reassurance at their whole situation was so overwhelming that it spurred Steve on to write more and more. 

Today, though, his mind was blank. He’d spent the entire morning worrying about Loki and in his upset he hadn’t managed a single word yet, so he stared at the screen in the hope that inspiration would strike. He was still trying to cudgel his mind into working properly when the door to the bedroom whirred open, and when he looked up in curiosity he found Loki posing against the frame in a black suit, with a black tie to match. 

“How did it go?” Steve asked, sitting up, laptop forgotten. Loki was home early – was that a positive sign or a negative one? 

“Well…” Loki was clearly trying to play it cool, but before he could draw the reveal out a smug grin curled up the corners of his mouth. “Director Fury agreed. Largely, I think, because Thor threatened to get down on his knees and beg on my behalf, but…here I am. A full-time, verified Avenger.” Steve leapt to his feet, glee fizzing through his veins. 

“Seriously?” He burst out. “Seriously seriously?” He ran forward as Loki walked into the room proper and snatched him up in a fierce embrace as the door swished closed. Loki looked enormously pleased with himself, and put his arms around Steve’s neck before replying. 

“I am entirely serious, _ástin mín,_ and do not think for a second that I am unaware of the hand you had in convincing him. Well, him and the rest of the planet, but it strikes me that Director Fury cares not for the opinions of anyone but himself.” 

“Are you _serious_?” It had been a 50/50 chance at best, angling for Loki to be employed as an Avenger when his official Asgardian sentence of a year and a day was up. Steve, Thor, Tony and even Clint had argued that his service in the time he’d been with them proved he was rehabilitated – and that his magic would be useful to the team. Steve had once again pulled out the image of his scarred chest, much to Fury’s irritation, and pointed out that none of the rest of them were bulletproof like Hulk. After that Fury had agreed to a meeting with Loki and Thor, but nothing more, and Steve knew he would never be able to find the words to describe how glad he was now, knowing that all of their badgering and pleading had paid off.

“Stark has promised to make an action figure of me,” Loki said smugly. 

“Sure, they can bundle yours up with mine and sell us as a set,” Steve teased. 

Loki shrugged. “I doubt people will have much interest in it. There are still many who hate me. I do not imagine I will ever be redeemed in the eyes of those who lost people in the Chitauri Invasion, for instance.” 

“Look, in our legal system, once you’ve served your sentence you’re a free man. Why shouldn’t you be an Avenger now? Could they even stop you from being an Avenger, these days? You’ve been part of the team for long enough.” 

Loki smiled. It was Steve’s favourite smile, the one without any artifice or flirtation, just genuine happiness. “Well, now you are at the heart of the matter, Steve. Thor’s begging aside, I believe Director Fury agreed to my becoming an Avenger because he knows me well enough to understand that even if I were not allowed to be an Avenger in formality, I would surely never allow you to go into battle without me.” 

Steve found himself choked up with emotion. There were hundreds of things he wanted to say, but what came out when he opened his mouth was: “I love you.” 

“I love you too, _ástin mín_. I love you, and I cherish you." 

“I mean it.” 

“I know you do.” 

“Sometimes I worry that you don’t. You know. When I write about William, or other people. I don’t want you to think-” 

Steve was silenced by Loki’s long, thin fingers flattening over his mouth. “I am not jealous, Steve. I understand. If there is any man in the nine realms who understands loss, it is I. Deep love leaves deep scars when it dies, and they stay with you forever. I love you no less because you have loved others before me.” Loki relaxed his fingers, dropped his hand “Now, I have a sudden fancy to dine somewhere public and expensive to celebrate my new job. Will you join me?”

Steve looked at him in confusion. Loki usually preferred staying in to going out, so why…? The god smiled again. Steve had never seen him look so devious. 

“Director Fury may be my employer now, Steve, but he must understand that he does not own me. He has ordered me to keep a low profile, and I fully intend to pretend that I have no idea what that means.” 

“You’re as bad as Tony,” Steve replied, laughing at Loki’s nerve. 

“Oh, my love, have you never listened to Thor’s tales about me? I am far, far worse than Tony Stark when it comes to public displays of defiance. Can you still love me, knowing that?” 

Steve paused for a second. Memories filled the space. Loki lying in bed with him, running swirling circles up his chest with his fingertips. Loki in tears, baring his innermost in the back of the limo. Loki smiling at him. For him. 

“I’ll book a cab,” He said. “Where did you have in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for sticking with it to the end and thank you for all of your encouraging comments and kudos!


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